Read All About It
A New Poem by Hilde Oleson
I throw the new thriller on my pile of books.
I am getting ready to turn out the light and go to sleep.
How is it that reading of lust and murders lulls me to sleep?
The paperback lands on a tome of history.
Again filled with lust and murder as all our history seems to be.
But this does not lull me into darkness,
It stirs me into thinking, hoping.
All these years of moving in what we call progress
Must have some meaning.
The power that built this world could not let us go on
In the wrong direction, could it?
These thoughts do not lull sleep
So I must go to fiction for the calm.
No calmness in the truth.