Collective Unrest

 

Spider Silk

August 8, 2018

For the victims of the Orlando Pulse Shootings

It’s a hundred degrees, but the air feels cold;
The devil hoarded all the heat to fuel his fire
Spitting out sparks of the spawn of satan,
Who masquerade ecclesiastical attire.
I tell my sobbing spirit that it will all be alright,
But it’s not and I fear it will never be
Because both masked and blatant furies of evil
Force their way in with their skeleton keys.
We wake to see how many are voluntarily blind,
Entranced by encrypted morality
We fight but the victories feel so small,
Compared to the crossfire of travesties.

But we’ve woven our souls out of spider silk,
And experiential snowflake lace
To be stronger than the weathered steel in our bones,
And more stunning than an arctic wolf’s grace.
So we toss our spiraling threads to the wind,
To catch the wickedness in our impenetrable web
A blockade that stretches but will never break,
Because it was spun by the grit of those who bled.

 

Ashley Crane, Phoenix, AZ

Please follow and like us:
error
Newer Post

God Called In

God called in to work today and we’re short handed. It’s the third time this week, he always leaves us stranded. God called into work today, what a coincidence. He has the weekend off, and vacation ‘til the end of…
Read
Older Post

a sonnet for george zimmerman’s wife

i’ve slept with many monsters woken up beside ogres big fangs flashing ready to gobble me up whole wondering where the man i loved went there were nights i spent hiding wrapped in quilts stuttering to officers that i did…
Read
Random Post

The one eyed doll

*TW for sexual assault of an underage girl   A young little girl In the eleventh summer of her pleasantly wretched life With a heavy bag on her little shoulders And a language book in it Walked her way With…
Read
Random Post

Let me tell you something, sweetheart, Or, Dear capitalist

It’s not a secret that this doesn't end well or doesn't end at all until everything does even the orioles and the salamanders and the making of rice cakes and cobwebs and love or that half of us are being…
Read
Random Post

The Sun Begins to Emerge

First, there were men who piled stones along the seashore to honor a brother fallen. Then, there were men who told stories and listeners learned the stories, preserving and circulating their contents. Next, there were men who sat on a…
Read
Random Post

Annotated Bibliography

every book I have ever loved has gone unread—or worse yet— abandoned by Chapter Three because       I Just Couldn't Get Into It yet every book a man has ever recommended to me, lent me, or even mentioned…
Read