After September 11
If I say God is good,
you nod, because you also believe.
But if I say MY God is the one true God,
that’s when the troubles start. So many wars,
waged in the name of peace. My missiles
are bigger than your missiles.
In the end,
when we are dust, will it matter who won?
One blue sky, fragile as a robin’s egg,
covers us all. When we sleep, grass
is our last blanket. Maybe the stars
spell different stories to you, to me,
but in the darkness of the night,
they are light enough to see by.