a dance called
atheist in a foxhole
goes something like this:
throwing off pre-conception
comfort zone
personal safety
social standards, references
mores
and family values
commercial potential
and every shred of
clothing and decency
tearing out his hair
tearing out his hair
and all on a torturous diagonal
from upstage right
to downstage left
he ends up on the apron
on his knees
with head between them
under a single circle
of light…
and that is just the beginning.
then comes the losses
of dignity, equilibrium,
homeostasis, solvency,
and everything that means
anything;
loved ones
old friends
new hope
back home
old books
back home
old books
last looks.
there’s no music
but there is sound,
loud and distracting.
but finally there is
resignation
not resolution
he turns towards the wall
the back wall
legs extended towards the black legs
but the shin bangers go dark
leaving just the aura
of peace and
wisks of pity
before the blackout.
we’ve all been through it
or will eventually have to
but maybe not
in so short a time.
Ken Beck