Rumors

That we love our children
That we abhor war
That the world ends at our borders
That  it is indeed flat
That we are surrounded by menaces
Which float beyond reach like butterflies
That we have weapons to destroy them
Beautiful as they may be
Beautiful as their offspring will be
Beautiful as the children we love
Even if they are not truly dangerous
As beauty may be dangerous As poetry
It is enough that we are dangerous
Our walls higher than the loft of butterflies
Swirling beyond our borders at the world’s end

But we do we do do love our children
Who   strangely    resemble butterflies
Beautiful as these very butterflies
Who are beyond our reach
So beautiful we must shut out their cries

11/04, 12/3/04, 12/17/04, 1/4-1/5/05
Coypright 2004, 2005 by Maurice Leiter
Posted with permission