(Photo by: Ian Espinosa)
I wish we could all go back
When mornings dawned with brilliance and dew hung on gossamer spiders threads
And trees were alight with a flock of birds gathered about chatting away with such urgency and ferocity
The passerby wondered if he believed in something that passionately
When the sounds of a lawnmower meant the beginning of lazy summers
Of long car rides, and busy nightlives, and fresh new love
When peaches left sticky sugar on our chins
And everyone waited for the jingle of an ice cream truck
And now summer rolls close again, and those sounds are there once more
But there’s a shadow over everything
An anxiety
Is it war? Undeclared?
A famine? Not according to my waist line
Is it death? Well, that’s always close by
What is it? What is it?
What is this thing that creeps in the shadows
That alights in the eyes of friends?
What is it that pulls a shiver down our spines
And bristles our less evolved senses?
What is this anxiety? This nervousness? This nameless fear?
This mysterious other that presses it’s face against the windows of our souls and makes us flinch?
Who is it that’s stolen the blue and white from the skies
And the promise of a new spring coming?
Is it us? Is it us?
Dear God, is it us?
No. No. I know what this is
It’s as ancient as the Mediterranean sea
And it once held France in the belly of a beast
And had Alice, once, over for tea
What is it you ask that claws at your sleep
And sets your heart beating with fear
Just lean close, I’ll only whisper this once
Tis madness, madness my dear!