Heres Estrella

More Stars than There are

Month: April, 2018

For Our Soft Wrists and Brittle Faces

How cruelly did Youth
Dare us to dream so frivolously,
That every burger we flipped,
Every broom we pushed—
Every petty tip waged to our once
Or still hungry pockets,

Dimmed our Brilliance into
Barely containable and feigned
Smiles, veiled behind which lay
Heaps of deferred aspirations?

And are We so hypnotized to confide
In this modern, fast-forward dreaming,
That the weight of Hammer
and Chisel became too much to bear,
Too much of  a nuisance,
Unwilling burden
For our unwieldy wrists?

Or is it simply too much a shame
For our extensively kept faces?

.

Long ago, in a pre-man age
Championed by the gods and creators
Who lived under cosmic rifts and divides,

Among them, a tiny yet miraculous notion
Was suddenly conceived—
Like the cataclysm bringing forth
An all new Philosophy and Faith—

A race of thinking, civilized, even
Highly intellectual beings
Whose core conviction sang: 

“We are born to Dream,
To Work, and Sweat
Not as obligated labor,
But as Our birthright 
To keep our too often wandering
Souls Pure and Intact!”

.

We now sit in wonder,

“Who were They?
A People who proclaimed themselves
Through endless Shame
And its complementary Glory,
Mankind? ”

 

American Gothic: Part 2

Work

 

“I can change,
I can change,
  I can change—

If it helps you 

to Fall in Love.”

 

 

so help me God

when I was just a boy,
I thought I’d live and die
exhorting goodness, being through and through,
a protector of Innocence.

but as just a man,
I find myself losing Faith
in this world of sin—
promises of my crusader days
empty or broken.

now, I pray that I die not
having only been a hypocrite,
swinging like a hopeless pendulum
between self-destruct
and usurping.

Amen.