It’s Time

A fragile reflection bounces off the mirror
as a soft, dulled image lulled by a slow,
backward pull away from pain.
Grendel’s death-grip has been broken.
Each person awakes as the long fever breaks,
wipes sweat from a faded face,
and hopes conflict has ceased.
Diderot laughs as his words echo,
bouncing off silent church bells:
“Has the last politician been strangled
with the bowels of the last priest?”

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