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Searchlights 
Wrack the Valley of Jordan

There 
are times
when our fates
are in flux,
myriad patterns merging;
and 
moments
when they lock.
Doors closing.
I 
remember the day
the last phase
jammed together:
three years under the 
bridge.
We drove into the winter city
to tie in with the Joneses.
Tires 
singing
through the slush
carzooming down the four-o-one.
At the restaurant
my 
wife and Mr. Jones babbled.
but I didn't speak,
barely glanced at Mrs. Jones...
We 
drove into the winter city
carzooming down the four-o-one:
a rabbit crossing 
the highway,
halfway across, caught
in our headlights,
stopped and turned 
back
into our path.

History's 
splintered,
a million pieces,
a legion of barbarians
stalking us with 
yellow eyes;
all our mistakes,
lack of faith,
the easy ways in and out,
little 
murders.
Catastrophe
is stalking us.

Did 
you see the headlines?
the freedom fighters
have cut off the minister's 
head,
and troops line all the public buildings.
And 
now my wife is leaving
leading my children away
with her black widowed gaiety
rattinkling 
like shivering glass.
I 
know it's late.
It's very late.
But should you find
the heart, the words,
to 
change the world:
 
   cry loud banners,
    cry headlines.
the 
rabbit's caught in the headlights
 and the future's deciding on us.