Somewhere Beneath

© 2006, Carl Thomas Gladstone

Somewhere beneath this rubble
lie temple shards and tattooed arms
and gas, but gas drives autos now
not Nuremberg.

To this collection add Gaza
and orchards, my daughter,
her husband, their children
and peace.

O Ancient must you burrow down
wrap up in my ruin and retire?
Will I find you somewhere beneath?

Reconstructed walls
keep plotting defenses.
Outside children march
with sticks and paper shields
and occasional plastique.

I want to pick these pieces up
one by one and chuck them--
send children, running wild
against Goliath.

Come lull the bulldozers
wrest these stones from my hands
from my belly from my head
help us find our common hearts
all beating and blood red
somewhere beneath.