Excerpts from the poem New Road Station by Tracy K Smith

(for people in a hurry I tend to brutally excerpt poems with apologies to the author, but in the hopes new readers will head in their direction)

History is in a hurry. It moves like a woman

Corralling her children onto a crowded Bus.

History spits Go, Go Go,  Lurching at the horizon,

Hammering the drivers headrest with her fist. . . .

. . . Perhaps history is the bus that will only wait so long

Before cranking its engine to barrel down

The road.  Maybe it is the voice coming in 

through the radio like a long-distance call.

Or the child in the crook of his mother’s arm

who believes history must sleep inside a tomb,

or the belly of a bomb.

A few words from The Good Decision Project

I suspect history has already considered, decided, and delivered its verdict to this generation . I am already in the rehabilitation and contrition phase fighting for what can be next. Join me?  Self Examination might be good for all of us.  I ache for the children of this world as we turn our backs on life and choose bombs  and bodies over life.