Hierarchy

Sometimes, fired by cable news
and online discussion boards,
I imagine a war,
where everyone is dead.
And everyone else is starved
and soon to be dead.

And I know that there's a place,
possibly on the moon, maybe farther,
where my imagination runs
and makes everything true.
I can't help but feel guilty
for just how little guilt I feel,
and surprised
at how quickly my brain runs circles
around the dying moonmen and
works its way back to me,
to ask where my empathy stands.
I don't know.

I'm told I stepped out of a supernova,
and so did you.
I guess we were all formed from stardust,
fathered by incomprehensible destruction.
It makes sense in daylight,
when I walk through the treeline,
take a slight right at the playground
and see how close my eyes can get to the sun
before each cell starts to scream
that it's too small to see itself,
how could it possibly see the sun.

They're just cells, they say,
they have no brain,
no soul trapped between the membrane.
But when a few trillion of them get together,
possibly by chance,
or maybe to mourn the loss of a few friends
in the optic nerve,
something changes and they think they can love.
And I think they can too.

Maybe if enough stardust and destruction
collect in one spot,
give me an ocean
that will sparkle
as I drown...
When 6.7 billion trillion cells
talk to me and tell me
just how small they are,
I will find my empathy.

And maybe it will be enough
for a man on the moon.

EXCUSE ME??!! That was so beautiful. I honestly loved it, I read it three times.

I liked the way you used structure to give the poem a great sense of rhythm. It really flows very well. I think the amount of emotion and personality you were able to give to the whole thing was great, especially the cells, too small to see themselves let alone the sun. It has a sense of complexity, without being impossible to understand which is refreshing!

If anything, I feel like the last two lines seem out of place with the rest of it. They do give meaning to the rest really well, but I think maybe the wording isn't perfect. It seems a little bit contrived, whereas everything before it seems so natural. It just feels like a bit of a let down. But that's being really picky.

I absolutely ADORED this poem of yours. You're style of writing is so creative, I can't help but read it over and over again. Seriously, your writing makes my day a lot better, expecially after school and band practice. Keep writing,