Lullaby in Minor Key

In the back row
of the solemn service
head on my shoulders

I wonder how
to encourage my child
to not participate in Empire

that would put to death
for instance an innocent figure
associated with education.

I turn her head away
from intermittent flashing
lights through stained glass

grateful each verse
of these once a year hymns
are quiet enough to keep

her awake but still in my arms.
The words emphasize
too much individual sin.

On the drive home
I shift the rear view mirror
so that the lights

from aggressive tailgate drivers
do not interrupt her reverie
before the inevitable

overtired cries on the way
to a temporary bed.
If only evil itself

could be a gesture or
a glance away from presence.
This story gets retold

at least once a year.