I haven’t been writing much lately.
I seem to have misplaced my words.
Or perhaps I just have too many.
When I sit down at my desk,
what should I address first?
Seems reasonable until I pick up a pen.
Then I think,
I shake my head
and search desperately for some
combination of words that might
make this world a little better,
that might be reassuring or, at least,
not too distressing.
I look for words that might be
might make someone see something
they hadn’t seen before,
but nothing really comes to me.
I haven’t believed in Hell
for a decade, maybe even two.
Such a silly thing, it seems,
to believe an omnipotent and
could be so vengeful, so vindictive
or a fallen angel could be so cruel.
But as I take time to write about Nazis
and white supremacist douchebags,
I start thinking
maybe Hell does exist
and perhaps it’s cyclical.
Perhaps Hell isn’t a place,
but something that comes
around every once in awhile
like an eclipse,
there to blot out the sun
from time to time
with no other purpose
but to confuse the trees
and rattle all manner of being
from their stupor.
I suppose there could be value in that,
of periodically separating the wheat from the chaff,
if for no other reason than to make it clear
which is which before allowing them to mix again.
But what the hell am I supposed to do with that?