it is hard to remain human on a day <br />when birds perch weeping <br />in the trees and the squirrel eyes <br />do not look away but the dog ones do <br />in pity. <br />another child has killed a child <br />and i catch myself relieved that they are <br />white and i might understand except <br />that i am tired of understanding. <br />if this <br />alphabet could speak its own tongue <br />it would be all symbol surely; <br />the cat would hunch across the long table <br />and that would mean time is catching up, <br />and the spindle fish would run to ground <br />and that would mean the end is coming <br />and the grains of dust would gather themselves <br />along the streets and spell out: <br /> <br />these too are your children this too is your child<br /><br />Lucille Clifton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-times/
