Category Archives: POETRY

VOTE WHILE YOU STILL CAN

The things I would like to forget are clear

while the things I would like to remember

slip away like a playlist on a playback feed.

The happy faces of refugees

making it safely to Lviv,

then on to even safer spaces

are not so clear as those in tears

who remain under siege in fear

that they will die of famine or thirst

or gunshots, missiles, or worse.

Too many soldiers lie in wait

at too many city gates

to begin the killing spree

of genocide against those free

of despots and autocrats

across their borders.

I can barely say the names

of those who live here at home

with the same desire to destroy

our hard won democracy.

It is clear whom they admire.

First, themselves for cleverness

and ability to con under the duress

of fear, superiority and loathing. 

They build fear’s  weapons

and amass stockpiles of fear

funded with tax-free incomes

and air it far and wide,

while they hide as Citizens United

in common cause to destroy

people of color, women, and those whose gender

threatens their white male masculinity

and the women who wash their feet

with unshed tears from their own hidden fears.

Cowards are everywhere.

We used to deride them.

Now we elect them.

I wish we could forget them.

But they are hiding in plain sight.

and they will never do what is right.

And so we must reject them 

and win this last fight against them.

Vote! damn it. Vote!

While you still can.

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AGING OUT OF PLACE

Years weigh down the lane I travel.

The dust has settled, as have I.

Even the air seems dense and pale,

too easy to inhale or exhale.

My pace must slow,

each foot placed just so.

Should I fall the earth would feel

hard as glass.

We both would shatter.

Eyelids weighted by experience

of both grief and joy dim the view ahead

of this road I know

must end, sooner than I’d wager,

anyone would hope.

It grows quieter here.

My ears have dried with my tears

remembering  long lost friends and family.

Crystals form within bright as stars

then shift from their moorings

as I walk, daring me to fall and jar

the brittleness of each new morning.

So, I slow. But still, I go.

Where? None of us really know.

which makes this journey

an adventure beyond this space,

an exploration of love and grace.

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HOLY COMMUNION

Hope is a gift we can only give ourselves 

when we have faith in ourselves

which requires we love ourselves.

Believing in ourselves

allows us to believe in others.

We only know this by the gift of love

others give us.

The hopeless cannot have faith

until they love themselves.

They foment insurrection

to make a dark connection

with other lost souls.

Loving the faithless,

those who have lost faith

with their own humanity,

with their own community

is perhaps our own best hope

for unity.

Perhaps love is the more difficult gift,

the more difficult to find, 

the more difficult to hold fast.

Perhaps we are not meant to hold onto love

to make it last; 

but to let it go and find its way,

to those whose need is greater than our own,

that we may create better days.

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DARK DAYS

Is this enough for you,

these coldly dreary days

when dew frost bites

flowers bold enough

to brave the threats

of a winter not quite through?

Snow waits above 

the sky’s borders high

and falls with icy rain in tow

to warming earth down below.

Climate knows not 

which way to go.

She is confused and changeable,

grief-stricken and unreliable,

searching for freedom

amidst the rubble and dark skies,

bringing tears to those-who-love’s eyes.

This is no Arab Spring

where hope can grow.

This is a tethered Spring

driven along by bullying winds

daring anything to grow

or even survive in Mariupol,

now Finland and Sweden, too.

This is a dark cloud eclipsing the sun

where once democracy could freely run.

Is this enough for you;

or too much to bear a moment longer,

wishing we could be as brave as Ukrainians

and so much stronger ?

Is this enough for you ?

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DOUBTING THOMAS

He who uses and abuses

the Rule of Law

destroys the foundation

of the nation.

Criminality alone is insufficient

to destroy the system put in place

to bring a nation into grace.

The Law is a jealous mistress

whom wives of judges should not ignore.

A wife’s voice has no place near the Bench,

nor the bed, nor the couch;

not directly into the ear,

nor spoken aloud before the crowd.

Chief Justices must deplore

women or men above the law.

Attorney Generals must assemble

facts and charges against

those who try to suspend 

Law’s eminence and rule.

Ignoring such stands is playing the fool.

if Law is to rule over all,

Judges must abstain 

from political refrain.

Politicians must abstain

from disinformation campaign.

We have seen it all before. 

We would never countenance 

such false description on a box of cereal.

Yet, we allow false descriptions

of political opponents; and the lies

in briefs filed by false prophets;

and the lies by talking heads 

who entertain ignorant hoards

rather than inform.

Stand silent? 

We cannot allow such a shallow response

to tsunami waves of autocratic ways

if democracy is to survive and thrive.

We must open our mouths and shout it out.

We must run to the polls and vote those out

who doubt the value of the Rule of Law, 

refuse subpoenas and hide behind lies

to bring our democracy to its knees.

Stand and alight in the freedom fight.

Doubt the Thomases of this world,

watching their abuse of Law unfold.

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COLD SLAP

Another night of fractured dreams

led me to the door where meaning lives

alone in the night sky

where dreams blew through 

on cold winds of sheeted snow.

Swift yet slow, snow assaulted daffodil

who raised her face up and up and up

until deflated by the stinging slap of snow.

Then, daffodil, without a frown, bent down low.

With the dawn the snow is gone.

Cold remains. Its heavy space 

tightening down the hope of grace

from sunny skies and warmer nights,

with gentling dreams of peace

and days of  love’s delight 

to make the world right.

Whence sleep can, once again,

make dreams whole.

LESSONS IN THE SPRING SNOW

They laugh aloud, the daffodils.

as snow falls, they turn up their faces

to catch a taste of cold.

Magnolia opens wide her blooms

no longer tight, and catches flakes

of snow on her pink face.

The herbs and perennials close ranks.

Sheltered by mulch they give thanks

for the gardener’s attention

to the Spring dissension 

among the four winds’ direction.

a morning walk among the brethren

of the garden and its domain

builds trust and faith and hope

in the resilience of plant life.

and promises despite the strife

of pestilence and war

human life will endure.

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Haiku

Roiling emotions.

Put pen to paper.

Another haiku.

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Pascha Haiku

The unleavened bread

Of sincerity and truth

Feeds the heart and soul.

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RESURRECTION

Whom shall rise from the dead this day ?

The victims of gunfire in American alleys and streets?

Children caught in the crossfire?

Black men shot in the head for license tag violations?

Ukrainians tortured in basements by Russian troops?

Somalis, Ethiopians, and  Sudanese starving to death?

On this day when Christians celebrate Christ’s Resurrection

I pray for a resurrection of insurrection 

against greed and usurped people’s power

that breeds gunplay and famine,

rape and suppression of women,

redistricting and election misdirection,

racism and gender disaffection

of human rights.

I celebrate resurrection and contemplate

what still needs our attention.

I hope for more in my Easter basket

than bodies dumped in caskets.

I search for more answers to hatred

while children search for more eggs.

Like the children, I hope to find 

what I am looking for;

peace and equity, life and security, 

a sacred response to all in need, 

an Amen.

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Philly

24 shootings in 24 hours

In the cradle of liberty

Whose cracked bell rings out

Warning a country

To place a sentry

On the triggers of violence.

What are we truly about?

Gunning down civility

With inhumanity.

Would shouts and fists not suffice

To quell the fear unleashed

In a moment’s rage?

Let’s be clear.

The fingers on these triggers

Are not well-regulated

Militias protected by the Second

Amendment, as stated.

There can be no democracy

Among the trigger-happy.

Like the innocent

Democracy is caught in the crossfire

Of those who wield there ire

Against those they desire

To wound and destroy.

War in American streets

Is a cruel violation

Of a democratic nation’s

Efforts to endure.

Too many guns in too many hands

Enrich those seeking it’s ruination.

Control the guns. Make war no more.

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