a poem in my pocket

As I grow older, my faith in humanity slowly shrivels. Man’s heart is selfish, proud, and violent. It’s been that way since the beginning but we all want to believe differently. We so desperately want to think better of ourselves and our loved ones but we too can go “there” (whatever evil direction “there” may be). I’ve been hurt most often and most deeply by the one I thought loved me most (or, at least, that I loved most). And I have hurt those I claim to love. Our love and compassion are so limited but our capacity for anger and hatred so large. Man feeds on violence: Rome had its gladiator entertainment, there has been war and genocide throughout human history, our “civilized” society kills the innocent in the womb and produces individuals that go on shooting rampages. I’m sure a hundred years from now, if mankind survives itself, people will look back and consider us “barbaric”.

blood red tulip buds

bulbs split, leaf swords thrust upward

blossoms burst open

Mish asks us to write about “faith” in broad sense for haibun Monday at dVerse Poets.