Lewiston
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

What do we do after the orgy of violence?
Where do we run when the once hidden shadow
steps from the canvas and into the world,
and time collapses, and spider lightening
strikes from cloud to cloud
and the hairs
in the snail
of the ear
keep trembling
after the ringing
stops, and white moths
suddenly flutter
madly
around
the room.

So many
stories stopped
endlessly,
so many
umbilical cords
severed from life’s
womb.

How will anyone
flesh out Christ from
any of this?

There is no passing over tonight,
no easy final causes.

Somehow, we must
try to shine a light,
collect the lost
moths, take them
to the sweet,
wide-open,
and free them
to find a greater light
they should have
never needed
to search for
so soon.

.

.