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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