2 New Poems From Connor!

"Weeping in the final Hour"

  the contours
of the Alamin,
i am reduced to weeping

May God grant me strength
  enough to endure
the flash flood of tears
  that swell the rising oceans
of misery
  upon contemplating
the innocence of children, women, starving . . .

And there are endless processions of faces
  of her, of boys, of mothers weeping
of starving children in deserts drowning in the blood of the earth
 -- have you not heard, they are irrigating the deserts
          with blood and oil --
a newborn, deformed,  cries out in some agony we cannot know
  and always the mothers weeping.

Brothers, put down your weapons.
This dying patch of green
on this drop of blue
suspended in all this vast darkness
is too quickly fading.

Brothers, were you not told?
One God, one Community, one Book.
Why are you cutting out your own eyes?
Holding your hand in this flame
  will not move God,
      it will not undo Divine Will.

Brothers, i dare say that is Satan
  who is tossing whispers gently
    in the darkness of your minds
And none of this -- volumes of poetry! --
  will change a single stroke of what is Written.
But brothers,  have you not heard, we have free will
  and besides, i cannot remain silent.

God is Great!

If nothing else, we owe it
  to the children
  the orphans
  the sick,
for did God not tell you
  that they are He
  that He is they,
and God knows best.

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"futile wanderings in a white abyss"

In this intimate space,
  this darkness between the dumb white of the page
    and the blinding light of being
i must make a confession.
i hate writing poetry.
It is like a ghetto riot
       like a thorough war
       like a night of drunkeness
       like a

wet dream
      like some sticky cathartic process
that leaves me feeling empty,

Where have my tears gone?
What wretched force has dammed up my weeping?

Perhaps if i abandoned poetry
       like i have abandoned intoxication
       like i have abandoned hopelessness
       like i have abandoned godlessness
       like i have abandoned self-indulgence
Then i would be able to go on weeping
  and teeth-gnashing
all through the night
until i could all but feel God
bearing down
upon me.