When the King Be Witnessed in His Power*

I’m weary of the fear
that turns us to killing
while the mist hangs
over the mountains.
Weary of the stream
of mindless endings,
unlike the river, who
travels to the sea.

I’m weary of the thread
of dead and deader.
The dread-nought
and juggernaut.  God
in the machine.  I’m weary.
I’m weary.  I’m weary.


from Emily Dickinson’s “I heard a fly buzz when I died”