Toward Crashing

Come, oh young,
to smash with me your elder
captors,
ready to tumble the glowing gates
of inequity
that like reckless mansions glower
in the night
against these poor streets

Society needs its glassy crash
amongst the rich shores of sober
sickness, waking the bowling pins
of starry skies,
breaking into their fall
amongst the lanes loud
with silence

And if not enough, our lives
given to wreck theirs
into sharing,
then what of love had we
to lose
while giving the righteous shock
to thieves who knew nothing
of want or of wise caring?

 

(c) J. Celan Smith