Fated Lives of All
A Poem by Douglas Caraballo
You are land locked
fated by vast swaths of mountain sides and seas.
Vagrant riders of destiny , and we are all bound it seems
by the density of our being at this time.
The earth is swallowed by a night that brushes
downward towards the land
like the wings of an owl. Old howl full gordian
pangs of breath.
Fated, and bound in bone and robes of flesh.
Fated here
to perish and rust. Salt rimmed hair, star touched
yet to me — through thine eyes
your grandparents get older. Aged and older.
The nation is fated. Landlocked and fated in
fatalistic folly. Quadrants and templates
of colder old world rituals bubble up through
the eyes. How much fate can you bear responsibility for?
How many sacrifices and tears can you shoulder ?
I no longer run. I no longer walk the great distance across
the George Washington bridge, envisioning myself a hero
holding hands — legs like oak trunks against the New York skyline.
I…
