The chain hangs on the wall,
old, rusty. You are tempted
to believe its strength is done,
that the broken links are forever,
the struggle for release, history.
Nothing could be more false.
No victory is permanent,
and the enemy is there, under the surface,
quietly forging new links of steel
forged by fear, forged by hate.
Waiting, writhing, hungry
to apply them, sure, certain
the moment will come.
The guard will be down
and their dark age will come again.
Sharpen your sword. Do not sleep.
The war is never far away, an victory is fleeting
to all save the diligent.
About this poem
This poem could be about our spiritual lives, about our belief that all people, no matter what, deserve kindness and help, or about our own personal battles with mental issues like depression and anxiety.
To believe we have won is to set up our defeat. Diligence is all.
Be well. Travel wisely,
PS: The picture at the top of this post was taken in my grandfather’s barn. The picture at the bottom was taken in Rome.