On Being Human
Man's a long way from his tree,
from the narrow range of his cave,
his hunting and gathering spree.
Yet in his being is a clear caveat:
Though clad in fine garb beyond compare
this savage remembers that early beat;
his the tune of the untamed
lying inert yet longing to peak
since a sterile pacing game
replaced his vista of once daring feats.
Yet within his core beats a drum so wild
must ever be invoked a holy adage
to rein the beastly guile.
All 89 poems by Sara Militello