a world rendered vague
by rhiannon macgregor

that time in life when the past holds no errors
and the future seems shorter than all that has gone
has come in a wave, freeing all of my terrors
and left me with longing for days now withdrawn

and all of my passions lie dormant and sleeping
awaiting a spark to rekindle my lust
as i tread o'er pathways once held in safekeeping
long before what 'i want' converged with 'i must'.

these pressures to live in a world gone insane
forced me to accept what i cannot prolong
until i can only discern with disdain
that the world may be right, but i am not wrong

when children wield weapons and kill with precision
they've slaughtered much more than their actions portend
they've cut to the heart of our own indecision
and introduced us to innocence' end

and when we have lost that last hint of guilelessness
gone is the antidote for cynicisms plague
of weapons against fear we are dispossessed
and forced to live life in a world rendered vague.

as i walked the old hallways of the school where i learned
that life can be more than we may ever dream
no fear in the memories, just the sense that i yearned
and wonder that things weren't quite as they seemed.

did i see with a child's eye my everyday life
and never imagine that there was much more?
or was it so different, less anger and strife
than today, when so much has to be borne?

what pressures have forced us to guard our possessions,
to fortress ourselves against all who would dare
to live out their lives in the midst of agressions
that now are so common, yet once were so rare?

what madness is this that we strive to learn more
and yet distance ourselves from those who would teach?
we know more about history than the people next door
we can't seem to grasp, though we've lengthened our reach.

like pitiful pandora's, we cling to our hope
and think it will all be much better some day
but the answers are farther beyond our meager scope
some even beyond our ability to pray.

perhaps i am seeing it all with new eyes
and everything is as it was and has been
where before i had no ear to give to the cries
perhaps now i have harkened, and am tuned to hear them.

perhaps children were always growing up far too fast
perhaps parents were always too slow in responding
perhaps people didn't always smile as they passed
perhaps i was always too slow to the dawning.

possible still that some element has changed
possible yet that we haven't learned all
likelier still that our knowledge deranged
our ability to hear it when need makes it's call

i've harbored some hope in a secretive place
where it swells on occasion, and makes itself known
and lifts my melancholy to a state of pure grace
and as much as i've fought it is as much as it's grown

it's a sickness inside, pollyanna's relief
knowing mankind will figure it out in the end
and it lifts itself from desire to belief
until i am forced to ask not 'whether' but 'when'.

© 2000

copyright information

about this poem:

i visited an old school i attended this morning. my niece is taking diving lessons at a scuba shop we used to pass by every day coming home from school in the 4th & 5th grade. i was close by, so i stopped by the school and thought of how different things are. the school is much larger now, but essentially the same, and it made me wonder just how much things have changed, and how much my perception has changed. hope you like it, it may get some reworking in the coming months.