Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Tuesday, December 08, 2015

Thirty-five years ago*

thirty-five years ago
early in the morning
driving east into the sun
i heard on the radio
john lennon's days were done
i squinted like a baby
staring at burning angels
their fire came at me like daggers
their purpose came undone

bullets are not saviors
bullets are not hope
lying on the sidewalk
not a pauper or a pope
john was such a dreamer
but not the only one
the price of bullets fired
the cheapness of a gun

no one built a chapel
no one praised a god
no one rode the spirits
no one gave the priest a nod
no one could remember
no one could explain
no one in that december
would see his like again
no one in that december
would see his like again
*Written in remembrance of an awful day in December of 1980--I lived in Southern California and was unaware of John Lennon's murder until I heard about it on the radio while driving south/southeast on the 405 in southern Orange County.