A Duel

 

Their swords clanged against one another

as the combatants clashed around the

Medieval stone banquet hall. 

Sparking steel sabers blah, blah, blahing…

 

I’ve been having a hard time

writing much of anything lately

and I think it’s because I’m nervous

about the future.

 

I mean, I’m already terrified of the past,

but at least I know it can’t hurt me,

and I can write about it with a nostalgic twinkle

in my eye; but the future, it unnerves me.

 

I once looked forward to

flying cars and space exploration

as the logical progression of humanity

based on our commonality

and desire to grow. To learn. To be better.

 

Now I feel a future in which

people aren’t shitting in the streets

might be too much to hope for.

My optimism has been cruelly tempered

by scarring skepticism.

 

I’m nervous about the rampant

language of hate, suspicion and

wild leanings toward theocracy and

despotism under the guise of the

“will of the people”.

 

I’m uncomfortable with how

uncomfortable it makes me feel

and how scary it is that a free people can

be coerced by fear mongering and

whataboutisms.

 

I’d like my flying car please; rather than a sword.

 

“A sword fight to the death,” shouted Sir Knight.

“To the death,” agreed the Black Knight.

 

“Clang, clang, clang,” their swords echoed

through the drafty old chambers of stone,

into the long night.