The Sky Had No Shadows

Days of fantasies

left their trail of native prints

in imaginary villages where life was natural,

where cruelty was a predator

still sleeping beyond the river

between youth’s sweet peace

and the plains outside the window

 

The sky had no shadows

it never rained death,

life was a teepee in the bedroom,

courage scribbled in tales

of good that always conquered evil.

 

But the headdress of fancy

can’t endure hunts on concrete

without being ruffed and torn,

upon the retreat

from the journeys beyond fears,

scarred and matured by wound,

yet behind the eyes

is the stage of make belief resides,

a script where no matter

how the real world works

at least in this realm of justice

for once the minority can win

while holding onto the hope

somebody it will be a play

seen on life’s streets.