Listening for messages
From angels and autocrats
Offering mysterious futures,
Random threats,
And freakish opportunities,
Slaughtering lambs and
Smearing their blood on the doorposts,
Listening to pundits and prophets while
Hiding our true selves,
Preparing to run from the thugs just in case,
Abandoning the dog and the family photos.
A lintel dripping with blood
Documents terror and intimidation
And offers only metaphorical salvation.
The plagues are real and
This time they’re directed at us.
So what are we going to do?
Organize protests and sing songs or
Go through the red viscous portal
And then what?
It might not be too late
But even if it is
There’s always the Sea of Reeds
And whatever’s on the other side.
