A week later and we’re all still here
Witness to ruin, result of abject fear
Not of pillars and glass concrete domes
But men, by their own actions, undone
Lives splayed open, shame bared raw
Hastily scribed epitaphs in digital scrawls
Weep not for seditionists betrayed fall
Accountability over divisiveness, for all
Made up stories to keep warm countless nights, wasted lives slinking into other skin,
All grown men, turns out, are really, still just boys dreaming of being a race car driver.
We look for ways to distract ourselves from these cold grey days, walling ourselves in
Frozen lakes of silenced quarantined promise, praying this spring thaw will revive her.