The men and women clutch tight to other’s rumored failings,
the straws of a destiny gone wrong, greedily gathered.
The branching differences of vision chopped away,
opinions carved to suit and
Stuccoed with a righteous judgement,
motes of mismade choices in mud smear glue
fortify the icy glass walled houses
Sheltering and unifying fear.
All the voices swirl in moldish mist;
“If you can’t say something nice, come join the fun.”
“Maybe sit a little closer to me,”
“Have you heard about the latest scandal?”
“Did you here what So and so said about them?”
“If it wasn’t for them, I would be…”
“Well if it wasn’t for you, they’d be…”
“If you don’t believe like me, you’re wrong…”
“If your not with us….”
But the chorus of the sun and dandelion heads are calling me to hope
With relief, I slip away.