Op/Ed Poetry

Poetry: At the vigil

No one could say who they were.

The men at the perimeter.

Why they appeared in uniforms.


Seemed to be wearing badges

stitched into their shirts.

At this distance five-pointed stars.


Not really. More like nametags

of stars from their place

in the universe. Yellow threads.


The closer they came we could see

they were there to draw a circle

around us. Without any guns


apparently. Nothing to stun us.

Isn’t that what being present is for?

To bear witness. Even to suggest


an atmosphere of protection.

Which is almost enough.

And never. And never again


we’re here to say. Because we can.

Because we can stand inside

this circle of candles.


The light, late in the afternoon.

In the evening. They cast

and shadow.


Gary Margolis, Cornwall

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