Poem: Sensitive

 

Sensitive

 

if you find that peace

in the miracle of a common bird

amid this purgatory of smiles,

then you can no longer ride

the merry-go-round of cruel jokes.

you stand amazed and confused:

how this clown and that toadeater

and this pettifogger and that doppelganger

throw their zest away, how

they let love sink in the arms

of withering, unseen fiddleheads.

if you find that peace, the sort

far beyond the spiders who decree

they construct Jacob’s Ladder,

you abhor

the chopping down of dreams

to construct proper family trees.

you abhor the pluck and burn

of flowers at the stake

in the name of dollars and war.

you …   you wander

among fake gifts and kind evils,

vigilant to nurture that little flicker

of truth in your heart.

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11/21/25 "money" replaces "crusades"