.

so the men have come

with their sacks of darkness

to this sainted place

on the green where children played

their deathly spores fester

(Note: of course, this poem refers to the recent atrocious nerve-agent attack in Salisbury, UK, my home.; “sainted” refers to the twelfth century cathedral, the “raison d’etre” of this small city; the psychopaths continue their reign of world terror in even the most obscure backwater. We must extend the reach of wisdom and compassion to counter their horror) .

.

.