Category Archives: POLITICS

START YOUR DAY THIS WAY

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Start each day with something to say

that cheers the heart and paves the way

for kindness unbound by fear of loss

of reputation and a safe situation,

threatened by retribution for your contribution

to truth and justice hour-by-hour, day-by-day.

We are on a common journey lifted higher

by a deep yearning for freedom and equality 

to which every American and immigrant aspires;

tied down with words in our Constitution

and protected by laws, enforced by courts

which pledge apolitical, neutral decisions

rendered with stated grace and precision.

But, when law is ignored, or twisted by greed or hate;

when SCOTUS corrupts its mission and states

precedent no longer controls politicians

who are free to break laws and showcase their flaws

without any constraints, our laws carry such taint

that constitutional words become blurred on the page.

Crying over each turn of the page by a party of miscreants

takes too much energy and lessens our pace.

We are still here. We are still to be feared 

by those who would take our freedoms away.

We are not going back. That is not the progressive way.

We only go forward to claim a new day

where America’s promise wins over the fray

created to disrupt and corrupt election day.

Stop whining. Stop crying. Get out and register voters.

Drive them to the polls. Guard their way.

There are more more than enough of us to hold sway

and create a better country, one we can take pride in every day.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

TAKE A MOMENT

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I only want a moment of your time

to reflect upon un-poetic rhyme.

There is so very much to do.

I ask either too little, or too much, of you.

His need for subserviency, adoration and greed

takes no notice your own, real need.

You were never meant to be his white serf,

one-step above Black slaves, laboring on his turf.

The DOJ and SCOTUS handed back the whips

to those who do his bidding as he flips

from cruelty to cruelty arranged by Putin’s calls

plotting and planning The USA’s trips and falls.

Military is used to manipulate stock prices so the wealthy few

can buy low and sell high, with no care for you.

Your coins build a ballroom in which you shall never dance.

A triumphal arch between the Washington Monument and Lincoln’s glance

will be constructed that you may no longer easily recall, nor see

American aspiration to realize true equality.

MAGA,Trump, MAGA,Trump! You chanted your power by chanting the name.

The power was a never his but yours.

The conman wins the game, and dances as he scores.

And you cheered. Oh, yes, you did; even gerrymandered lines of hate

for Democrats, Black citizens, college students in every state.

You joined the game without concern, without a qualm

while team leaders covered up crimes, you stayed calm.

Pedophilies, rapists, liars, cheats and colluders in corruption

steal our nation’s health and wealth and reputation

while you stay silent, subservient and take satisfaction

that you can cheat your way to success in every upcoming election.

Detention centers hide concentration camps, not deportation.

If any one of us is not free, none of us are free, don’t you see?

Or are your eyes only on gas price increases, and food costs?

When will you realize nearly all we love is lost?

Get you head out of the book, your eyes off the screen.

Look around at the suffering, MAGA is offering in between

the crazed tweets and mean-spirited acts by the nation’s elites

who refused to be taxed and share the wealth

they gained from your labor with a soft, thieving stealth.

I only want  moment of your time

to discover the truth inside their rhyme.

Then I ask you to stand, speak, even shout

until every single one of us learns what MAGA is really about.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

BORDERS

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Borders have their uses.

They tidy-up the scene,

remind us where we are,

and where we have not been.

They assign us each a plot

of able responsibility,

and call us to fulfill our task, 

to act responsibly, as we ought.

Like naturalists we name each plot

to recognize ourselves within its place.

We mark paths between each plot,

a  no-man’s land of sea and space.

Borders are a mere tool to use.

They can create more civility.

Or, they can abuse all gentility.

We can move across borders easily.

They were not made to stop humanity

from going where it needs to go

to find food and shelter, water and safety.

There is the rub in such a construction.

It can also lead to self-destruction.

For we are all part of the same family

of men and women descended

from a single source evolving merrily.

Until, each one of us is forced to face

the human weakness that lies within

and threatens our dreams of what we could win

if only we were better than we are.

If we were better, we could reach the stars.

Such anger we cannot allow directed at self.

We look for somewhere to place it,

when it should be put on a shelf,

placed  where it can do no harm

and give us time to calm our alarm

that we are far from perfect, but still okay.

Our personal borders help us hold our evil at bay.

Instead, we project all the fear and rage

from and toward ourselves to others,

other humans being human, idiot or sage.

We  carefully choose a human target

who does not quite look like us;

and not because he is truly different at all.

But in mirrored reflection of our follies

his appearance creates a place we can hide

that we are truly the same person, inside.

It would never do to project our own failings

onto another who looked just like we look.

It would prove the foolishness of railing

against all who look the same-self ailing.

So, we choose to note a difference

to justify our disdain and  discrimination.

We close our borders with determination.

We miss the prize right before our eyes.

We miss the chance to accept our need

for the strength that comes with community.

We forget, for as long as we can,

that differences reinforce each man

and help us each overcome our weakness,

our circular thinking, our useless imagination

and build a stronger human-kind nation

within every border, across every border

until we kind humans no longer fear

our very selves, nor one another.

We could act as sister and brother

and settle our squabbles with love

as part of a human family.

We could project amity  

and, perhaps, save humanity.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

CONFIRMATION SLAP

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There was one day each year our Catholic parish could expect the Bishop to visit. Every year the children in the fourth grade, age 10 or so, made their Confirmation of Faith. We studied the tenets of our faith so we would understand more fully what it would mean to be confirmed. This was critical because  the one thing that sank in was the idea that we would not only promise to live our faith, fully and with integrity; we would pledge to be willing to die for our faith, as many of the Catholic saints had done over the centuries. In fact, we chose a name for ourselves of a saint who inspired us to live our faith as fully as they. I chose Bernadette, a young girl unable to be shaken from her spiritual experiences, despite opposition even from church leaders. She was open to the unexpected, unexplainable mysteries of her faith; courageous and persistent, resilient and humble. She could face down any opposition to live her faith experience.

We had learned through study and life experience that others opposed our beliefs, and especially, our assumed authority to represent Jesus Christ’s teaching . We saw our priests, and even ourselves, as part of the line of succession from Peter the Apostle. A lot of wrongdoing and audacity occurred in between Peter’s time and mine. We were taught to acknowledge errors, correct them and move on. A daily examination of conscience and frequent confession kept us on track.

As a very short child, I led the procession into church. The Bishop asked us a few questions ascertaining that we understood what we were about to promise. I was the first to be confirmed, kneeling at the altar rail, shaking like a leaf, praying for courage. The Bishop spoke the words reminding me that my faith required a willingness to die for Christ. I responded that I would. The Bishop then struck my cheek with a blow so hard those in the back pews could hear the slap, my head snapping to the side. The Bishop looked horrified. I could feel the sting of his hand. I was reminded alright! 

After the service ended, we processed from our pews to the rear of the church, the Bishop and altar servers before us. The Bishop waited for me at the door and joined my parents and family as we stood on the church steps. His handprint was still visible on my cheek. He humbly apologized to me and to my parents. Since I was the first child he had underestimated the strength of his blow, and was mortified. I had never expected to see a mortified bishop. It made my heart open to him as human being, no longer an authority figure. Those moments of my confirmation remain with me, 67 years later, as if they happened yesterday. Over the years I had need of the lessons learned that day.

I learned that faith is not a mind-game, nor a mere consideration. It is a calling to act with integrity, love and compassion. It requires the willingness to suffer for others; to learn them, see them, hear them even when I had to “suffer through” them. I suffered through those I did not like nor respect, as well as those I respected and loved. I learned that those in authority held no power over me unless I gave it to them. I could have withheld respect and forgiveness to a bishop who hit me so hard it hurt. I chose to forgive him and accept his unintended harm. However, I never shirk from showing those in authority the harm they do. It is probably one reason I became a lawyer. I experienced justice that day. Too many in our America do not. It is those we must be willing to die for. Our faith requires it.

I listened to two Catholics, Senator Bernie Moreno from my state of Ohio and Vice-President J.D. Vance defend and protect the President Trump’s unlawful war, threats of genocide, and destructive blasphemy the past few days. They were confirmed. Do they not recall their vow to defend and protect our faith and our church as they attack our Pope? Do they not understand integrity and morality? What did they promise as they affirmed their Catholicism when confirmed? I am not truly surprised because they also seem to have forgotten their vow to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States and Ohio, and the laws of both when they sworn into office as senators and then, Vance, as Vice-President. 

These are not men of conviction willing to suffer for their faith. They are not humble. They lack integrity. They lie. They attack when they should defend… not just the Pope but human beings in Gaza, Iran, Minneapolis, and every city and hamlet in America. They attack instead of defend our people of color, LGBQT and transgender citizens, our women and children, our elderly and disabled, our working poor, our refugees and immigrants. They would suppress votes of students, women, the working poor, the elderly and disabled and brazenly support the provisions in the SAVE act suppressing our votes. All the while they pretend to protect us and our vote. They stay silent while our military is used to perform war crimes, and while our country’s leaders threaten to annihilate others in violation of the Geneva Convention and human rights.

The attack on a Catholic Pope is just part of the plan to replace loving faith and care for others preached by Jesus Christ on his Sermon on the Mount with power and control over others fed by greed and arrogance. It was easy to abuse the weakest among us. Now, they openly abuse a powerful church leader preaching Jesus Christ’s teachings. Of course, Trump posted an AI construction of himself as Jesus Christ. Of course Vance and Moreno, and other republicans think it is meaningless, a joke.  The explanation is as great a lie. It has meaning. It is meant to promote abuse and control at the expense of others. These men were not slapped hard enough when they were confirmed as Catholics. They are not willing to suffer any political nor financial loss to help others. As a Catholic, I hold them accountable and ask them to recall their vows; to their church and to the American people.

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Filed under COMMENTARY, FAMILY STORIES, POLITICS

A NEW DAY IS COMING

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Morning must wait awhile

for the sun to cross the stile.

We wait in darkness,

shadows their starkest;

unable to see our way,

knowing the sun will rise,

always, on a new day.

But, I am awake for hours;

no years, no decades now.

I have pushed away darkened skies,

I have struggled to plant seeds

in hardened soil stomped on

by supremacist feet of clay.

I have listened to hateful words

until my soul shouts and sways.

Always, always, I wait for the sky

to lighten on a new day.

I listen for the first notes

of morning-birds’ first songs

carried on morning-breath’s first breezes

stirred by sun’s rising heat

overturning the cold of night;

up-ending threatening nightmares

and tossing them away.

Soon, soon, I promise you.

There will come a new day.

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MARCH 28, 2026

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The place where I write may have to change.

A soft couch for a hard chair I must exchange.

Age hardens the bone more than the sight.

Age does not dull the urge to set things right.

Except…

Age questions all sense of reality.

It doubts what right seems to be.

Age moves faster the longer it goes.

It upsets the cart full of all we know.

Age unsettles from head to toe.

We see higher up and deeper below.

Age quickens and shakes our stability.

It makes us question who we will be

in an uncertain future coming so fast

we wonder how much longer we shall last.

Age keeps reminding us we cannot fall;

not our selves, nor our country, no one at all.

So we march for a future, a future unclear and unsure.

Bravely, because we have done this many times before.

Are we wisely foolish, or foolishly wise ?

The fact we don’t know is no surprise.

So, I get up off the soft couch, and drop the pen.

Time to go march, one by one step, together again.

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LIBRARIES SAVE US

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I learned to read before anyone knew it, even myself. It seems I always could. My mother read to me every day until my younger brother was born when I was four. Then, I read to myself  the books Mom had read to me. When my brother was old enough to sit up in the stroller we walked to the public library every day. Mom read to my brother as I pulled books off the shelf and read to myself. 

That year my grandfather went to Italy in a ship called the Andrea Doria. We were in New York visiting Mom’s family at the time so we all went to the pier, borded and toured the ship then waved them off as the ship pulled out of port. I remember every detail of that beautiful ship. 

Every morning while Mom was busy I would lie on the living room carpet and lay the Advocate, our local newspaper, out on the floor and read it from front page to last. There was a front page article one morning describing the sinking of the Andrea Doria on its return trip from Italy. I excitedly ran to Mom to tell her Grandpa’s ship sunk on the way home. She asked me how I knew and I replied that I had read it in the newspaper. “Show me,” she said. So, I read the article to her. She asked me to keep reading. After, she asked me when I learned to read. I told her that I did not know when. I know now it was when Mom read to me. She taught me phonics as she read, and helped me sound out words I saw in print.

After that, we continued our daily visits to the library. While Mom read to the baby, I read book after book. I was allowed to take home 4 books on a child’s card, and took home 4 each day. I read them at home and returned them the next day. This went on for years. By the time I was in the fourth grade I had read every book in the children’s section. The Children’s Librarian agreed her records showed that to be so. She sent me to the Adult Librarian to get an adult card so I could begin reading in that section of the library.

The Adult Librarian informed me that I could not get an adult card until I was in high school…five more years to wait to read! I was so disappointed until the Children’s Librarian escorted me back and explained I needed an adult card since I had read all she could offer me. I got my adult card. 

I proceeded to read section by section: biography, autobiography, biology, American and Ohio history, World history and geography, politics, philosophy, fiction in all genres. Every day after school I returned the book I had checked out the day before and took out more to read after doing chores and finishing my school homework. 

I still read a book a day, but almost solely for pleasure. My internet reading is dedicated to current events and politics. One can only handle so much these days of corruption and authoritarian greed. I thank Mom for teaching me to read, to lose myself in the printed world where goodwill toward others overcomes self-interest, and love drives out hate. I need that. I need to believe it is possible. 

Mother’s and Fathers, read to your children. You give them a greater gift than you can ever know. It costs nothing. Public libraries still exist; although, they are under attack. Writers still write truth to uplift souls and encourage an appreciation for facts; although, they too are under attack.

We need to support writers, poets, actors, comedians, artists of all genres. We need to support our public libraries. Keep reading. Keep believing. Our libraries may save us all.

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Filed under COMMENTARY, POLITICS

ACTIVISTS

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To catch the sunrise

it is necessary to open the blinds

while still in the dark;

in that fearful time and space

our earliest ancestors faced,

before fire made a place

where even in darkness

we feel safe.

Even now, we close our eyes,

awaiting a new sunrise;

one where bombs and hate

stop falling from the skies

in our streets and across our screens

until we quake and scream.

We cannot simply sit in the dark.

Its prospects are too stark;

all blunt, clean-edged lies 

that shadow every truth

which fear denies, 

finally laid bare,

once sunlight fills the air.

We must open the blinds

while skies and lies are yet dark.

We cannot miss the moment.

We must not be caught by surprise.

Be ready for the sunrise.

I wait in the dark and open the blinds.

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BAD KNEES GARDENER

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Packets of seeds are starting to arrive,

which may never grow,

in the mail from companies

with greater gardening skills than I.

Buying seeds is a hopeful sign

that my pained leg might soon be fine.

Perhaps one day my knee can bend again

to plant my treasured seeds in fertile soil

and I can return to lovingly toil

among plants that are my dearest friends.

For now, they sit untended on my kitchen counter.

They sit and they wait, then wait some more

for longer, warmer days filled with sunlight;

and, for a leg which can stretch and move

painlessly and endlessly to plant more seeds

than this world may ever need

to make peace and beauty thrive,

among earthlings happy to be alive.

The seeds sit and wait for better days.

As do I. As do I. As do I.

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ELECTIONS

The tree must come down.

It’s stump must be ground.

Know this,though.

Its roots continue to grow.

The lines we rely upon

To stay safe and strong

Will remain under threat

If we rejoice and forget

The threat those roots make

If we do not stay awake.

The tree may be gone.

But the threat still goes on.

We can take down the tree.

But, stay by me.

We must stay alert and fight,

the tree’s shadows alight.

It takes time for roots to die.

It takes time for truth to replace a lie.

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