Sunday, June 14, 2020

The Voices that Carry

We're always glad to see each other
     And eager to get caught up,
The foolish and their fools, in the latest
     Dust from the road
Blown in by disputatious wind,
     Wherein what one brings
Is passed around like runes atop a board
     For the sparkling dice of eyes

Inquiring how it possibly is as strange
     As one makes it sound;
Isn't that just the same, really,
     As what was already said
And universally understood?
     There is, despite it all,
Desire in the question, in the gestures,
     But it is never

What is needed by the stranger
     Seen from behind glass,
Believing in some common
     Opening
Where each shares what they know,
     Hoping to be wrong,
For only then will their understanding
     Grow.

Another glass is filled, it is a game
     Despite the stakes.
They'll let you be right, as long as you don't win
     The argument.
The violence does not seem real
     To those who always smile,
It only hangs in the air, as easy to clear
     As opening a door.