A collective grief
has settled over the land.
Only time can heal.
We may never know
nor fully understand why
our freedom must go.
We must be the heart
of miracles yet to be.
And bring freedom back.
It is ours to seize
from its darkest journey and
bring it back to light.
Courage is our friend.
Struggles are not the end, but
A new beginning.
And just like that, friends,
the weight of grief rises up.
Grief comes to an end.
I yearn to see you
happily and truly free,
breathing liberty.
I have lived through the Stone Age, the Bronze Age,
the Iron Age, the Middle Age, the Industrial Age,
the Space Age, the Communication Age.
I am human, so it seems,
and able to look back as well as forward;
a mere mammal trying
to become part of that thing
we like to call humanity.
How do we know who we are
when we do not know the neighbor next door?
How much effort does it take to explore
each member of a community?
We do not even truly know our family.
Strangers pose a serious threat
that we have not learned to handle yet.
We play with religion and philosophy
to understand what humans are meant to be.
We have become the source of inhumanity
around the globe we once thought flat.
The more we learn, the more we fear.
The less we know even where we are at.
We who do not know ourselves, can
never feel safe.
Without self we are never in a truly safe space.
Democracy is as fragile as we.
If we cannot trust ourselves, whom can we trust?
In a democratic republic, trust we must.
Demagogues know this is so.
Wealth and power are hard to let go.
To seize power from “no-nothings” comes easily.
Divide and conquer rallies laughingly.
It has become a right-wing norm
used by our nation’s enemies
who need never use their armies
to cross our borders, when we are so willing
to allow them to sway and inform us who we are
day after day after day after day after day.
Only because we do not know who we are, anyway.
Or, in any way useful to ruling ourselves.
Like human children, human adults vote to play.
Humans are entering a new age every day.
A I will now become the new me,
a me I never expected to see.
One I never knew, it is true.
A I will know me much better than I do.
It will write and speak and act for me.
Deep inside what I once felt was free
will wither and wonder if I could have become
the real human, the real man or woman
the real me.
Lady Justice is blindfolded
that she may not see
who stands before her
and makes a plea
to hear a case on its merits
that justice may be served
under the law, and in equity.
Both matter, you see.
You wear no blindfold.
You simply read
what others have printed,
others, like me.
Prosecution is discretionary
under the theory of equity,
where harm is measured
against circumstances and intent,
and restitution is made with consent.
Except, for those with big names,
when a message is meant to be sent,
Lady Liberty sometimes removes her mask
before the process is commenced.
When process becomes excess to prove a point,
or destroy a wrongdoer to punish someone else,
equity steps in to correct the abuse,
and set free one who was meant to be
as all others would be in the same boat.
This is done to keep justice afloat.
Once her mask is removed it is too late
to argue she must not take it off.
It was already off, right out of the gate.
Curing abuse is not itself abuse.
Do not be so obtuse.
Curing abuse is mercy.
Curing abuse is equity.
Curing abuse is absolutely,
irrevocably, undeniably necessary.
Precedent has been set, it is true.
That courts may show mercy
to me and to you.
Those who voted “Trump”
are jail-breakers, criminals
in their sad way, too.
It has always been
understood and too often
forgotten. Spring comes.
Yesterday I fell
by the wayside
where hopelessness dwells.
The journey upward felt
like a forced retreat,
no longer a climb
on confident feet
to reach the summit
where love presides,
where ego lives above false pride.
Instead, the slope had become slippery
and I,
and I,
and I
fell to my knees
my hopes subsided.
There is no time for this
I have decided.
I may slip again
and all my hopes fail
but, I will stay on freedom’s trail.
The climb ahead
becomes more rugged.
And I become stronger
the longer
I climb.
And I,
And I,
and I
will always go up
where skies are blue,
to reach others
willing to climb
up
from the other side.
This I promise myself
and I promise you.
The United Kingdom once was not
united
until its great power overcame a world
unprepared
for invasion
and domination.
Britannia ruled the world
once.
In some ways
it still does.
The power of its language
built upon diversity
and linguistic mergers
still rules the world.
The power of its ideals
from Runnymede
through Parliament
and Native American nations
created an American Ideal
which carries its very being
across every continent and sea.
America was once united
until it was not.
It struggled to become
what the western world dreamed.
It got close
until the powerfully wealthy screamed.
Diversity is not all it was meant to be
in The United States, as hate arose
to fill the gaps of middle class needs.
I could stand the loss
of global power by my country,
As Brits have done before me.
But, I cannot stand the loss
of democracy to fascism and greed.
Great Britain is still a great nation
which defended its democracy.
The USA accepted fallacy
as truth to sacrifice all
who would remain free.
It is not the loss of an election
which hurts; but, the defection
of citizens who once claimed
a nation proud and free.
We may never be free nor great again.
We are not another Great Britain.
Duty.
Honor.
Country.
Fear.
Cowardice.
Submission.
The first three I claim
The last three I disdain.
No more need be said.
A national honor now dead.
Killed by those who fled
their duty to country,
a brilliant democracy.
I cannot shake the hand
of one unwilling to stand
by my side and claim
a nation fighting shame.
Pretense has no place
in a nation ruled by truth and grace.
Ignorance is no excuse for surprise
by those who choose to close their eyes
to crimes and fraud and hate
until it becomes too late
to grasp and seize and save
Duty,
Honor,
Country.
Parting ways.
FIGHTING WORDS
Poetry has fled.
Art hides in plain sight
behind clouds of flame,
beyond winds of change,
before plutocrats take the stage,
no longer waiting behind the scenes
which hide their rage.
Words have lost all meaning
when facts go unchecked
flung too fast to sustain truth
and belief in its power to right wrongs
for the weak and the poor,
tossed aside by courts which cower
fearing loss of wealth and power.
Which words are safe when lies procure
the party in power’s silent vote to score
total control of each life, each thought,
each breath threatened by dirty schemes
to pollute the earth, water and air?
Words cannot be spoken, claimed by death
of the rule of law.
No words exist to describe the depravity
some of us saw
as our words lay dying
first inside
then outside
where meaning can be lost.
Words remain frozen in heavy frost,
weighed down by cold hearts
and dead souls
seeking total control.
Freedom resides in words
which too often remain unsaid.
Words too softly spoken to wake
those asleep, escaping, all hopes dead.
Too few words of truth must compete
with an onslaught of unchecked lies.
I listen and watch, lost in thought.
I write and I plead against what we have wrought.
Poetry, I fear, carries too-little weight.
Poetry, perhaps, has waited too late
to escape the threat when so many lies
have buried the truth for power and greed.
Money has always been the creed
clothed in religion and faith
which grants God’s grace
to those who deserve to see His face
on dollar bills and hung on towers.
False gods seek our praise as they devour
a country whose best citizens
refuse to use their power to remain free,
and would rather lose their democracy.
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