The Damage

The Damage

Something we were withholding made us weak
Until we found out that it was ourselves
The Gift Outright, Robert Frost

The results came in,

maybe life gave us too much

at the beginning

and we kept looking

for a path that maintained

enough of a balance

so as not to become
this pestilent air.

Maybe life did not belong

to us anymore,

maybe the things we believed in

were part of the damage,

part of that petulant wind

knocking down the walls

of our nation.

And if we had known the outcome

would we have put our hands together

or looked elsewhere,

renounced everything to stay still

so as not to cross the days that agonize?

This is so immense

it doesn't fit into tears.

We heard the results later.

There’s no greater nostalgia

than that of the future.