The day goes on regardless of the plight
of man. And that is right. We are the dust
that spoke, that saw the will of gods in flights
of birds, but never learned, not once, to trust
the one across the stream who held his spear
as we held ours but spoke another tongue.
We got what we deserved because our fear
matched theirs, and then we prayed and taught our young
to fear. We looked into the mirror of
their eyes and, satisfied, we died. The hate
would now go on; our kids were tough.
The mystery was gone. We knew their fate.
So let the day be gold or blue or green—
what’s true is what we’ve done and what we’ve seen.
—from Rattle #80, Summer 2023
Ed Hack: “I started writing poetry at 16 when the world opened up to me in such a way that a poem seemed the only way to try to make sense of it. I wrote free verse for years, was published here and there, then, three years ago, feeling the need for the discipline of metered language and form, turned to the sonnet, to explore its precisions and passions.”