The Quill and the Hawk

These silent voices smolder with regret.  At once hard memories of fallen courage haunt us.   Past dishonors swell to batter otherwise profound avowals for justice and fairness.  Private promises never to be caught watching – even when the very simplest “no,” “wait” or “never” might save, if only once, a child from the painful humiliation of being left out (a disease of the ages for anyone whose at bat was conveniently skipped with the game on the line) – are betrayed.   We have all been commissioned at one time or another as soldiers of indifference. When we carry our hatred of injustice on our shirtsleeves, unfurling our anger only when the coast is clear or when the boss isn’t watching, empty cries for reform are heard. The family of man might very well go in search of itself to quiet the nagging doubts about its misplaced integrity only to find loss of purpose.  When confronted with the alarming demands of an industrialized world man’s potency to overcome mere being to delight