News anchors kept us from drifting
as current events tore through
the narrow straight, all bows
against the flow.
Stern headlines rippled
around sharp shallow rocks
while we prayed for the tide to turn
to keep our fears at bay.
But that ship had sailed, its story unfolded
like thunder in a bloody sunrise.
Casts delivered lines, hooks
baited, sunk deep
where color into darkness faded.
How easily the snake tread on
bit, and quickly blued the red –
the whites flashing and bellowing,
evening lightning lashing out!
Surfacing, our breath roared
into lungs drained of voice, and sea legs,
not trusting solid ground, at first betrayed.
Paper columns sheltering idols
among the valleys and peaks
we read again and again,
relearning what to believe.
Every truth in time turns false,
every compass as the poles stray
errors our altars, cracks expanding admit
light, enhance and warp our understanding.
Only the set morphs
from pulpit to podium to panel – the media,
paint and clay, to prose and pixel.
The expanding spectrum encourages
a different blindness,
as things seemingly transient,
like tides, ruled by constant forces
we learn to see, forget,
and are reminded.