The Tower Of Babel
Poem by Sean McDowell
i am one of the few who was left behind
to lay his head in these forsaken lands. one of the few
who still awakens each day
to watch the half-completed structure
briefly accelerate the dawn to something like purpose.
one of the few who still aches
to see the dream animate again, to see it rise
to a height that transcends the pain. it seems only years ago
that i was one of millions
swarming through the tiers, packing mud into bricks
and propelling ourselves
towards heaven with nothing more than calloused hands
and the strength of a unified will.
until that day came when we were scattered like ants,
when that great hand swept down
and fractured language.
i remember that terrible moment
when my tongue began to stutter and flop in my mouth,
and all i could do was scream
into the confused patchwork of sound.
i am one of the few who, millennia later,
is still screaming.
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