Four Horses

tonight, my children

and the light polluted sky

make me forget

i don’t believe in heaven.

tonight, my children,

my unbruised hearts,

dance around a fire,

throw sticks and laughter

into the embers.

tonight, my view encompasses just enough

fire, horses, land

to push back a world

caught in terror.

tonight, all four horses stay far away.

tonight, i wonder when

the winds will come

to abrade my children’s skin.

tonight, i want to tell my children a story

about a man who loved his children

with such desperation

he cracked their sweet skulls with a rock

instead of letting the invaders take them.

tonight, i want to sing my children a song

about a man who cut out his tongue

for fear he’d accidentally speak

the dead child’s name in a grief-riddled dream

and disturb the child’s spirit on the other side.

tonight, i wonder if songs

will be enough inheritance

to leave my children.

tonight, i try to sleep,

knowing i can’t protect my children

from the terrible wonders of the world,

knowing i can’t even protect my children

from me.