Past The Point Of No Return Poem by Stan Rodriguez

Awake—in passing dreams I walk
trying to picture the end of what might happen next.
I've passed the point of no return—no returning
to the wonders of the world or yesterdays.

The mornings were always bright—the air was fresh
and the crocus glimpsed in clumps
beneath the winter's breeze

and brought in the coat of many colors and new births
with emerald painted Oz to fill our dreams.
Children played with their toys and loving friends—
made joyful-sounds to fill the world with happiness.

Yet now, those days seem to have disappeared
the magic's gone—it's gone away.

For it's not safe to let the children out
and I suggest that you be smart and lock your space

as guns are running through the streets of Neverland
and Sunday mass is now no longer served.
No longer are the doors open at the church—but locked
to protect God's holy house from those that prey.