The solemnity of our grief 

The anguish in our eyes 

A crisis of conscience

The reason for our lies 

The misanthrope

The beguiled

The forsaken 

The destiny of a child

The false profits

The helrs of sophistry

A travesty within a tragedy -just ask Dostoevsky 

The cult of personality

An “underground man” can build a throne from fear,

Then call the throne his sight;

He shuts the door on what he hears,

And says the room is right.

He sees a wound in someone’s face

And thinks he knows its cause;

He puts his judgment in its place

And calls that judgment law.

The child grows up beneath that gaze,

And learns to hide the bruise;

He wears the mask his father made

Until he thinks he chose.

The liar fears the truth will burn

The last good thing he owns;

He cannot bear to look, or learn

Who suffers for his throne.

And what of us who stand nearby

And see the child grow still?

What truth have we refused to try,

What silence served our will?

Perhaps the hardest thing to face

Is not the liar’s claim,

But how we turn from someone’s pain

To keep a spotless name.

…

DCG