By John Snider

sniderrex68@gmail.com

The Genie’s Son

The story goes like this: a traveling merchant is eating his lunch alone.  He eats a date and then throws the stone away.  Suddenly, an enormous Genie appears and says, “Stand up so I can kill you.  The stone you tossed aside has killed my son.”  The stones we cast into the Universe never leave our hands without consequence.  They ripple towards the future and the past as well.  The dead come to life.  They stand over us sword in hand.

We took the sun from the deck of the slaver

Brought a picnic basket to the Lynching Bee

Swept the Cherokee from Georgia

Locked the doors in the shirtwaist factory

Called to turn in the family in the attic

Counted the number of Gugus placed on the head of a pin

in the Philippines

Fueled the Enola Gay

Turned our backs on My Lai and walked to the promising West

Kneeled to pray on the neck of George Floyd

Went to Newtown to learn marksmanship

Is every stone we cast innocent?

Our stones send ripples.

Where do they carry us?

Oedipus could see at the last.

We remain blind.

Our daughters/sisters will not lead us home.

“It wasn’t me.  Billy made me do it.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

We are like the cowhands in the westerns

who beat the town drunk unconscious.

“Sheriff, we were just funnin. ”

Or the old Jew who gets off the train

and says to the guard,

“There’s been a mistake, I’m innocent.”

But the stage is set.

We are in the wings waiting for our cue.

They are all waiting

For your answer and mine.