I suspect we grew up believing
that Darkness wore only a monster’s face
or swirled, shrouded, in a mushroom cloud;
that one day our own children could go
past the garden gate and safely to school,
returning unshot, unstabbed, unstolen.
Perhaps our ideals—ages of ideas—
freedom, opportunity and all the lofty
stump-speech words are hogwash,
mere castings of mis-aimed minds.
Perhaps we are meant to be enslaved
by want, greed, violence,
misinformation and mistrust.
Except: Why the unquenched desire
for better? Why these frail,
beautiful humans endowed
with soul-language of every art?
Inspired by this fortnight’s Two Cents Tuesday Challenge: Expectations.