Poem: Wrestling with Conundrums
If nothing matters as the nihilists insist, why does every slight
Every snub
Every slip of decorum
Sting like brusquely touched sunburned skin?
If turn thy other cheek is indeed the best policy, as readers of the good book know,
Why does the human heart beat so passionately for revenge and
Retribution
That one imagines will magically rewrite the wrongs,
Turning history inside out and punishing the misdeeds of the unfeeling and the venal?
If love conquers all, as all of us pray, why does hate dominate
Our silly species,
Lording its possessive power over helpless men
Engulfed in hallucinatory seas of conquest?
The cat cannot understand why he must kill the bird, and
The dog doesn’t know why he is attracted, as though by magnets,
To the bitch’s hind quarters.
We who own this planet, drowning in guilt, in thrall to
Our compulsions,
Look skyward and know for certain that the answers we seek
Can be found in that place we understand as eternity — or never.
Whichever comes first.