Marching on

I give my wandering children

Anger to protect you from pain

Rage to ameliorate agony

Fear of what folks won’t explain

Fraught laughter to counteract tragedy

Music to move you to heal

Theater to unite what we feel

that vague sense that nothing is real …

Lost at an indistinct edge made of snow

Unsure where we’ve come from, with nowhere to go

Beggars and bullies and braggarts and whores

iron chains on our windows in rooms with no doors

Fire roams freely, unleashed by cruel wars,

feeds forever on days we will never see,

worlds we will never be

given