by Pavel Chichikov
The future previewed in a room
A screening room – all towers fall
But in the courtyard is a well
Deep and clear, invulnerable
Who to see and what is there,
Is there a swan that swims on air?
A different vision now, a face
With every wound a scored disgrace
Each wound a well, a bleeding sore
Tears of venom spat by those
Who have no pity on the poor
Prophet, they divide His clothes
By then the ripples, images
Become the crippled fugitives
Robbed by rapine of their own homes –
Each borough a Jerusalem
See the swan divide its wings –
Look aloft and see them rise,
These are not imaginings
But dreams awake and openings
All come home is what I see
But first there is catastrophe –
The towers fall as ever they
Have fallen on another day
(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)