Tomorrow
Today will rise up to repeat itself.
You will ask me as if I were a wise man:
Why birds no longer perch
In the line of trees in my garden
Where I shook them down from
All directions with the sound of bread.
I will tell you why if you promise me
'Not to cry.' I can offer no more bread
Sound and sight has left my head
My house is as quiet as a deaf home.
Accusations have been made against me
And my little boy at the local school
Is treated as though he were a fool!
Even the soil is silent has yielded nothing
Since the warm sun withdrew its generous
Wisdom. This is a bloodless war.
Only the birds and I know the hollowness
Of human beings bereft of truth, love
And compassion who have shared none
Of these virtues nor bread for the birds.
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