The Tower Of Babel
i am one of the few who was left behind
by Sean McDowell
to lay his head in these forsaken lands. one of the few
who still awakens each day
to watch the half-completed structure
briefly accelerate the dawn to something like purpose.
one of the few who still aches
to see the dream animate again, to see it rise
to a height that transcends the pain. it seems only years ago
that i was one of millions
swarming through the tiers, packing mud into bricks
and propelling ourselves
towards heaven with nothing more than calloused hands
and the strength of a unified will.
until that day came when we were scattered like ants,
when that great hand swept down
and fractured language.
i remember that terrible moment
when my tongue began to stutter and flop in my mouth,
and all i could do was scream
into the confused patchwork of sound.
i am one of the few who, millennia later,
is still screaming.