I am death.
I am the plague.
Monsters walk among us
strangers bearing candy,
strangers speaking into phones,
the swings move after dark
A ball flies toward a hoop of razors.
The slide descends into a hungry whine.
Somewhere, a child is laughing.
Somewhere, the laughter stops.
And the wretched shape of a monster emerges
Harping to the destruction of cities and villages
An act of violence, an act of oblivion
A grave marker desecrated by vandals
A black and white photo tossed into the garbage by grandkids.
“Who is she?”
“No one knows.”
We became monsters we once feared
We are attracted to the darkness that once scared us
We became the monster under the bed.
No amount of prayer, no ritual, no sacred season saves it..
Just an old game or an old song or old friend
That remembers them before the monster
He will rise again. He is risen!
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