Turning Things Around

This myopic view of plodding endlessly
toward nowhere and brandishing dull and rusting blades

is exactly like a thresher walking an already cut field,
exhausting even on days of victory and adequate harvest.

We who keep walking are all deeply tired
and wish the web of the world was not so tangled and torn.

We imagine putting one foot in front of the others
and applying equal pressure to the skull and to the heart.

Here we must watch carefully
as the vanquished masses
take flight into the wide open spaces
with small wounds bleeding
into the overworked soil
until the plow is found
to turn things around.