Winter Garden
I watch the garden grow
beneath the blanket of snow,
waiting to emerge.
FANTASY NEWS
No more storytelling to avoid dwelling
on facts that call to action.
No more storytelling distraction.
When life seems more fantasy
storytelling undermines responsibility.
Only the facts, only the facts, please.
Give us only the facts and we will build
our own story, reach for our own glory.
No matter the difficulty or doubtful success
at least our lives would belong to us.
Manipulating the life of the tale leaves us
unsure, disconnected, and breathless.
We can take no pride nor have any remorse
for a story so overblown it is not our own.
Fragmented like all fairy dreams, we lose our course
in the heightened senses you endorse.
We simply want to live our lives,
and show our children they can survive.
Stop the fantasies. Stop the lies.
Filed under POETRY
WE HOLD THESE TRUTHS
Beautiful sunrise
after deep sleep surprise,
warmth in the deep cold,
loved and protected,
spoiled beyond measure.
Some of us already
have found our treasure.
Others huddle in doorways
and sleep over grates
where air lifts from tunnels
and some warmth emanates.
On the air rises the question, repeatedly,
from such disturbing discrepancies.
Why are you treated differently?
Who smiles such good fortune
on my undeserving face
while you suffer in the same space?
How can I let go of the privilege you see
and allow you to taker my place?
Perhaps that is the wrong question to pursue.
Better to ask if it could be true
that good fortune could smile on both me and you.
Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness
are meant for all; not, just a few.
Filed under POETRY
THE WEIGHT OF TEARS
The weight of water rests
heavily upon the breast,
hiding the heart in folds
of malcontent hung
as window-coverings
over the soul.
Tears too many to count
mount an assault
on streets where cameras watch
murderous intention
wrapped in police action.
Sacrifices for the greater good
should not come at such cost
of all innocence lost.
Acting with impunity
in every non-white community,
sanctioned by prejudice
draped with power
in a racist shower.
The weight of water rests
heavily upon the breast.
We are drowning in it.
Filed under POETRY
NIGHT SWEATS
UKRAINIAN NIGHTS
Shattered dreams last night.
Tossed and turned with all my might.
No safe space in sight.
AMERICAN NIGHTS
Shattered dreams last night.
Tossed and turned with all my might.
No safe space in sight.
AFRICAN NIGHTS
Shattered dreams lat night.
Tossed and turned with all my might.
No safe space in sight.
ASIAN NIGHTS
Shattered dreams last night.
Tossed and turned with all my might.
No safe space in sight.
MID-EAST NIGHTS
Shattered dreams last night.
Tossed and turned with all my might.
No safe space in sight.
EUROPEAN NIGHTS
Shattered dreams last night.
Tossed and turned with all my might.
No safe space in sight.
War never ends now.
We don’t know how.
We hold on tight
to what we do know.
Afraid to let go
during uncertain night
and awaken in hopeful daylight.
Filed under POETRY
HOLOCAUST REMEMBRANCE
Empty shoes piled high and deep
their secrets we cannot keep
lest we forget
the truth of who we are
humans not so far
removed from animals
in a kingdom too low
to acknowledge the fact
that we must control
what lies within ourselves
and not one another.
We must remember we are all
sisters and brothers
created from a single mother
each cell between us a bond
instructing us not to harm
lest we forget and destroy
the best of who we are.
Weep upon the pile of shoes
of those who walked their last mile
into the ovens and gas chambers
Jews and gypsies
homosexuals and disabled
those who wore hate’s label
of yellow stars and edicts
enacted by those in brown shirts
shouting slogans and sound bites
we once more hear on our streets
across our airwaves
at rallies held by MAGA stars
and from their congressional seats.
Lest we forget,
remember the empty shoes.
They could soon be yours.
This is a time to remember
even as those who survived
leave this place and space
and leave us the task of remembering
lest we forget.
Filed under POETRY
LAST BREATH
Last breaths fall all around
harmonizing without sound
on video and police cameras
lost amid the din
of self-hate turned around
decency spit on the ground
angry moves erupt in fear
calling up death ever near
the surface of inner torment
burying perpetrator with victim
in darkest night of souls
in human form
forgetting the best of humanity
remembering the worst
self-fulfilling prophecy
of beasts unleashed
from chains of self-deceit
hanging by a thread
of remorse broken into pieces
shards of glass
that pierce the heart
cries of “mama” on the wind
seeing our selves in mime
shamed by how such a little distance
we have climbed
since the days when we enslaved
took land and massacred
pushing back and down
pretending a superiority
to hide our insecurity
breathless in the grip
of tortured missteps
on the road to security
forfeiting all purity of purpose
just to breathe out rage
until no one is left
to draw a breath.
Filed under POETRY
ODE TO MATT MIDEA
Papers piled upon the desk
straining patience under dead weight
of a year past and spent.
Mr. Midea insisted we know
how to do taxes on our own
before we graduated and left home.
Page after page of publication 17 became
the bible of adulthood and a girl on the go.
No e-filing for me, oh no!
Download the forms and fill in the blanks.
Then wait for the refund
to be deposited in the bank.
I marvel at Mr. Midea who cared so much
that his students succeed in life,
not simply on exams.This, his Midas touch.
A teacher who charmed and challenged,
who teased and cajoled,
who demanded deeper dives
into underwritten seas of hidden history,
where ethnocentrism and racism lurked.
Mr. Midea made us work, and work, and work.
All these thoughts tax the memory
as I complete the taxes I owe my beloved country.
Mr. Midea, thank you for helping us grow
into independent adults with a thirst to know
the real America, the source of our joy and our woe.
Mr. Midea lives on in sweet memory
and our efforts to fulfill what he hoped for
teaching Principles of Democracy.
Filed under POETRY
WINTER STORM ADVISORY
Spits of snow space out across the sky.
Flakes duck and dive in solemn drill
and melt before they hit the ground.
If this be snowfall, there is no winter
like those we used to know.
Hard to dispel the storm warnings
even with little to show, or shovel or blow.
Something there is which anticipates a storm.
A glad energy, deeply hidden and worn.
Known to those who live in the in-between
where steadiness rests on granite, not clay.
Looks like tomorrow will be just another day.
Filed under POETRY
NEW NEWS
I awake from sleep and must know
what happened during the night.
Sleep hid a hemisphere
still awake and out of sight.
I do not want to hear
what happened yesterday, here.
That is old news to me.
I want only new news.
Only what is new is truly news, you see.
Rehashing yesterday’s facts
is not the new news we need.
We want to know about
the facts we cannot see,
what happened while
we were still asleep.
Half the world was still awake
and holds news we should know
to understand, to connect us to our globe.
Certainly, technology exists today
to bring such facts our way.
And, 24/7 you have the air time.
So, bring the news from other spheres.
Bring offshore news to us.
Learning more, seeing deeper
builds inter-hemisphere trust.
We are one world. We are one people.
We sleep in shifts but must awake as one.
Filed under POETRY
