When you want to kill the bogeyman,
head seaside, no matter how far away,
then sit with the crashing waves until
you again turn beautiful & small. If you
can find one of your enemies, take him
with you simply by the act of pilgrimage
in his presence. So be it. The two of you
soaring above whitecaps are now like the
hawks, not the wingless kind of guerilla
militias and state military barbarism,
fingers twitching at triggers or depressing
a red button.
Published in – The Ignatian Literary Magazine