Diorama

the glue that holds us
yellowed and cracked
like these four walls
one for every tragic figure
left clinging
to this open display
transparency
defines us now
both for what we are
and for whom we were never meant to be

boxed in a delicate decay
openly observed forever

the tears of the living
captured three-dimensionally
discolored in spreading pools
around our cemented feet
useless to us now
except to erode this flimsy foundation
we stand upon
keeping us in place
preserved in scale
against this painted background

boxed in a delicate decay
openly observed forever

will the time not ever arrive
for the gentle closing of this lid
to shield us again
and cover this darkness
in darkness
eternal
ending this sad display
human indignity the endless endeavor
of this self-made enclosure
surrounding us in both shadow and truth