Arc of the Apocalypse
Does the arc of history bend toward justice?
Or does it just sway,
Does it swing like a hangman’s noose in the wind
Waiting for the next martyr
Who believes her virtue will save her?
Savor the illusion of time as a willow
Weeping towards a crystal stream.
Its teardrop leaves will not heal the world.
Its broken branches fill the wide and rushing stream
That divides us, makes those on the far bank seem small
And see those other arcs—
Joan of Arc, an armored virgin banners flying
Blood dripping from her neck and down her leg.
Lit on fire for dressing like a man
As she waited for a just God to save her.
Or Noah’s ark
Where only two of each survive
We choose our child, our friend
Our tribe the Elect.
Condemning all others
To the deluge.
I long for an Epiphany
For a bright star to follow
For Magi to enlighten me.
I stand staring at the sky
Waiting for the clouds to break
To see an arc of moon.
Patricia Boomsma is a recent MFA graduate from Queens University of Charlotte, where she was an editorial assistant for Qu magazine. She is also an Arizona lawyer. Her poems, stories, and reviews have appeared or are forthcoming in New Orleans Review, Scarlet Leaf Review, Haiku Journal, and Persimmon Tree. Her work received an honorable mention in the 2016 haiku contest for the Arizona Matsuri festival.