Monday, May 24, 2010


I can remind you that we see little and know little
but much goes on behind the scenes.

I can prod you to confront your disbelief
and dig out facts for yourself
go ask the milkman, visit the slaughterhouse
make the links.

I can help you do that.

But I cannot lift you
out of the dead weight of habit.
I cannot knead your mind
to make it pliable, young, innocent.
Nor can I uncloud your eyes
so you might see afresh
the wonder of life
and the immediacy of truth.
I cannot lighten your footsteps
slow your thoughts down
or fill your heart.


  1. To stitch a torn and bleeding heart,
    With the thread of kind and simple words,
    Makes great mockery of those who start,
    By writing about happy bees and morose birds.

    Your poem has that effect. Well penned!