On Being Right - March 14, 2026

clawing remarks

raked across furrowed faces

and force fed

down closed mouths

the push of surety

sometimes needing

the deadliest weapons

from the soul’s arsenal

to break through,

burn and bludgeon

force the enemy to flee,

surrender   or   cry

so much collateral damage,

this meadow that used to be

green-grassed and flowered,

now an ashen wasteland,

the same place you

used to lay and wish on

stars, rise together

and say goodnight

to that Mona Lisa moon