Useful And Fantastic: The Bird Is In The Egg
Val Yule offers an apocalyptic vision - and a hint of hope.
The bird is in the egg,
while the bomb is in the shell,
the child is in the womb,
the souls are in hell.
Fresh blows the breeze over new ruins.
Flowers with the weeds
are in the seeds in the cracks
that brought down these empires.
Take away the syringe from the brain,
gun from the head,
horror from the eye of the children,
soot without the fire,
pitch without the road
offer no God's flesh
when the communion is dead.
Tell the young children
the bomb is in the egg,
the bird is explosive,
that the infant is monstrous,
the man born raging.
that cities lie vacant,
winds carry the plague.
And that in the cracks waits a hope,
waiting for a movement of will.
Turning from that screen,
from the images, from the wall,
let your small hands, as the tendrils,
reach for the sun.
Listen within you,
there's silence, there's music,
Look now. Life's done.
And again begun.
