Infinitives

Conjunctions

And so they placed rocks . . .

Built as reminders of mercy
of gratitude for the gift of turmoil,
As we become who we were
at our moments of birth
naive children of unbridled promise
with wings of unabashed hope.

Unaware that the intentions of pain
will carry the chorus.
And the parts we will play
Will be loud and off-key
understated and reviled
overstated and overplayed
and sometimes poorly drawn
To make an unnecessary point.

Unaware that the story will move without us
Breathed by another tongue
With lines from another's hymn
At the moment of triumph . . .

And that someday we will pause
Between the interstates and the fields
And build an altar of faith
With the cinders of grace in the grass.