Brian’sPoems

Condescension Falls

Condescension falls
like acid rain,
singeing the flowers
and stunting the grass
before either reaches full bloom.

The contempt of the bourgeoisie
meets the cynicism of the mighty
in a loud clap of thunder,
casting darkness across the land
and heaping scorn on the proletariat.

Meanwhile I sit
in the relative silence
my good fortune affords,
while stealing poems
from unseen spirits;
a modern-day Prometheus
setting fire to this page,
yet fearful of his own reckoning.

I take the dogs out in the dark.
The stillness of the early morning
is only an illusion.
We move assuredly on our path,
the most obvious noise
in a veneer of quiet.

If we could only hear
the tinniest of all voices,
what would they tell us?

I keep visiting the darkness
because our familiarity
creates some understanding,
and I know that even in the night
seeds of patience and love germinate,
then begin to grow.