I wonder what the eye of the crucifix,
Hung at the home cathedral do see
Right after the Angelus, by half past six.
The men with the devil and their politics
Sitting in the middle of the altar stones
With schemes to rip the flesh and scatter the bones.
I wonder what the eye of the falcon saw
That it flew away in so much awe
From every house that wore a crown. It stayed far
For there is no serene inn, house or a bar.
There is fire on the mountain, but no one cares.
Up to the hill, to quench it. But nobody dares
When the house burns down to its fountain, war fares
This is the end of the beginning that glares.
Then it’d be too late to be early to hurry.
Didn’t we hear the birds singing with so much worry?
Did we not observe the eye of the crucifix?
It got too heavy and slept off its affix.
We were at slumber. We’d lie….
But the fire rekindled our eye…
And I still wonder
About the crackling noise
That comes out of the hiss of thunder.
The wavering choice
The how high we have to climb
To what’s under our feet
The burning window from the crime
And the locked doors that bar retreat.
See this madness would keep raping
As the sky would keep scraping
When we choose to hold community
This earth would be gaping.
I have been there before
Wished, watered, washed and withered
The warnings are signs we’d always ignore
Like a horse to a rope, we’ve been tethered.
I wonder what I wonder for
To escape we’d need more than the roof.
Maybe search a serene inn
Maybe bother less and stand aloof
Maybe find where we’ve never been.
Leonell X Tochi