Bravery
Strength
Courage
in the Year of the Tiger
More needed than ever
To start over
And under
And around
the world’s plight.
Jungle growth chokes
The life of gardens
Of order and delight
And blocks sunlight.
Spring fears to push
Against soil kept dark.
Winter death lurks
Until
The tiger stalks new paths
Opening our way
To the possibility
The garden may be saved.
Bravery
Strength
Courage
Tigers.
Happy New Year.
No one wore masks
At the BMV
Where photos are required
On the driver’s license.
Even the clerks
Breathed openly
Over the elderly
And severely
Immunocompromised
Like me.
The only person masked
The one most in need
Of protection.
Required to unmask
For a photo
To prove identity
And that I am
No threat
Driving a car
Or boarding a plane.
And yet,
The un-masked
Are allowed
To threaten me.
Filed under POETRY
We forget we are animals
defined by our biology,
determined in our theology
to become gods.
We claim supremacy
in our ability to reason.
Thus, science is treason
to our basest animality.
There is no true supremacy
in puppies seeking comfort in the pack,
but a leader holding back
its basest urges so they thrive.
Their is no supremacy among ants
plundering crumbs left behind
by birds with greater speed
after picnickers have had their feed.
Like puppies, birds and ants
we seek opportunity
and shared camaraderie
in order to survive.
Supremacy would deplete our strength,
interrupt the flow of shared effort,
deprive us of the joy of joint accomplishment.
It would make us less and steal our comfort.
Science steps in to stop such a fray
using reason to light our way.
Science untended
leaves a world upended.
Viral storms circle the globe
behind fires and drought,
rain and flood,
leaving illness and death.
Economies fall before we do
onto bended knees of recovery.
Myths replace stories
as reason loses glory.
We forget we are animals at our own peril.
We must forgo supremacy
to sustain democracy.
We must remember who we are.
Sometimes, I think
I have forgotten how to bend.
Life now seems mere posturing.
We stand
for something.
Or, we stand
for nothing
real.
We sit on our hands.
We run from truth.
We sleepwalk through twi-light
days and nights blended
and mended by calculation
of who holds the reins
of our harness.
So, I stand
and I stretch
to find some balance
of thought and action;
a tiny fraction
of what reality
used to be.
And I dare not bend
for fear
of losing
my balance.
Sometimes, I think
I have forgotten
how to bend.
Life now seems
mere posturing.
We stand
for something.
Or, we stand
for nothing
real.
We sit on our hands.
We run from truth.
We sleep-walk through twi-light,
days and night blended
and mended
by calculation
of those who hold the reins
of our harness.
So, I stand
and I stretch
to find some balance
of thought and action;
a tiny fraction
of what reality
used to be.
And I dare not bend
for fear of losing
my balance.
Filed under POETRY
Too bright for the eyes
I could not watch
The sun rise.
and his behind cold lids
a fearful surprise
and dread.
No ribbon at a time
of colorful delight,
but a glaring reminder
all is not right.
The overheated sun
surprises the garden
drenched in snow
risen and fallen
from melting ice fields
in warming seas
I may never see.
The connection
between heat and ice
is broken off the glacier
of frozen hearts
in heated despair.
And we, blinded by glare
of the too-strong sun
are too blind now
To see.
Filed under POETRY
Too bright for the eyes
I could not watch
the sun rise,
and hid behind cold lids
a fearful surprise
and dread.
No ribbon at a time
of colorful delight,
but a glaring reminder
all is not right.
the overheated sun
surprises the garden
drenched in snow
risen and fallen
from melting ice fields
in warming seas
I may never see.
The connection
between heat and ice
is broken off the glacier
of frozen hearts
in heated despair.
And we, blinded by glare
of the too-strong sun
are too blind now
to see.
Filed under POETRY
NIGHT SNOW
In the middle of the night,
blankets hugged about the body tight,
I gathered them about and rose
slipping on boots to go
into the tranquility of the garden
bright with moonlight.
Snow now fills the tracks
of man and beast.
Huge flakes drift down
breathing quietly as I,
gently riding unseen currents,
falling onto still branches,
through a silent sky.
And I stand quietly along their side,
arms held aloft and wide,
chin tipped high
in awe of night,
and snow flakes in flight;
warmed by the sight.
I live! I am alive!
The Hidden Holocaust
Where does it hide?
In a banned book?
In a tight fist?
In a churned stomach?
In a dark heart?
In a silent scream?
In a glob of spit?
In a twisted tongue?
In a sullen laugh?
In an uncomfortable joke?
In a smiling smirk?
In a bank vault?
In a legal decision?
In a police cruiser?
In hospital ward?
In a school room?
In a news room?
In you?
In me?
Where does hate hide?
The snow tells tales
of visitors both
friend and foes
to plants hidden below
it’s white blanket.
Squirrels and rabbits
Abound and bound
across icy surfaces,
where prints detail
their frequent ungainly
slide to places
they did not intend
To go. This I know
As I slide along
in boots unsure of purchase
on icy walks.
The squirrels and bunnies
keep concerning company.
Deer and raccoon,
rapacious dragoons
strip the seeds, and slips
of faded green
from bush and plant.
We all abide together
comrades in arms
Against the weather.
Filed under POETRY
annarino writes 