this little light of mine
barely lends a flicker to the dark
chaos surrounding us
when statues fall and high places are flattened
i am reminded of
the fall of the work of man cannot erase
but it can erase blind
affection for subconscious altars. violent
coups never win.
i once saw lenin, bronze and huge and tall, as recent as 2013 in the middle of a communist-dilapidated ukraine village
the chill a statue can send through the heart.
and I recall
the ancient golden calf
and i wonder
how little progress we have made since Moses.
this little light doesn’t know much but
for the fact that light is the only thing
that breaks through