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North American Dreaming: My Vestments

William Burkholder asks a challenging question about the way we view the world.

For more of Bill's significant poems please click on North American Dreaming in he menu on his page.

My vestments reek of worldly cares,
I have tarried too long
in affliction's pit of pride and ego.
In my blind journey down the path of free will,
I have not stumbled, but fallen.
Only to rise and fall again.
Tripping over didactic ideals
of societal compliance,
of war-like, bayonet mindsets.
I have not thrust the blade,
but my hands are bloodied none the less,
my lethargy the conveyance of the death blow.
An uncaring chromium blade sliding,
sliding into societies of those we as a people think less of.
Our silence to Darfur, Baghdad, Kabul,
To Detroit streets, LA gangs, 6th graders on crack...
children with aides, starvation, deprivation, annihilation...Yes, yes,
my vestments reek of worldly cares,
and what is the scent of yours?

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