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Because It's There
Why was I born
he asked and went to dust
without satisfying an answer
For years I searched
to unearth him, ask again
the unanswerable, sift grains,
molecules sparkling
in plankton showers
find reason in the groan
of a sun belching
into self destruction
I listened for his voice in burrows
moles gnawing old newspapers
to line their nests. He wasn’t there
either when the earth cracked
as a cooling cake does sometimes
trapping bleeding bodies under
rubble, or when the wind brought
a cloud of locusts from the south
eating the green naked overnight
Perhaps no answer will come
—or only the one I hear
when the wind comes in from the desert
remembering how the paper-yellow
blooms under the dunes watched
two ant-like figures struggle
up towards the summit
to plant their little flag
© Johnmichael Simon
2006
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