George Held -------- poem

No Light

   “To Hell in a hand basket”

   “This is the end, my friend”

1.

Only clichés and other folks’ words

come to mind in the lowering dark

of a world gone to pot or to black,

as the pot calls the kettle,

but what are clichés for if not to bring

succor to us suckers who long for light,

not necessarily at the end of the tunnel?

But there’s no light in sight, none.

2.

We who are doomed to die salute you

who motor on in the face of bomb

threats, mass shootings, frightening

policies drawn up by crooked governments,

you who warmly welcome a new child,

you who go to church, synagogue, or mosque

to pray, to receive succor, you who feel divine

peace in the presence of God, a god.

3.

But no god’s in sight, none. So what

if I can’t pray or find peace without,

only rarely within, where there’s no

light, just a reptile response to life?

That’s no question for a lyric;

save it for an ode or an epic

or a drama; stow it away

from the gray light of a new day.