Worn and weary I
run away from words hidden
in the dark of night.
Pained and poured out I
slowly ascend the mountain
reaching toward the light.
Strained and so sore I
peruse the new horizon
coming into sight.
Battered but brave I
reach into my open heart.
Love overcomes fright.
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.
Only one thing is certain.
In your heart, you know it to be true.
The only person who matters is you.
That is the core of democracy,
a republic which is not a theocracy,
nor a monarchy, nor autocracy.
No man or woman will come to save your nation.
Now, pay attention
to school boards and zoning boards,
and definitely boards of election
where you will find your greatest protection.
Watch the mayors, governors and secretaries of state.
Do they make decisions with love or hate?
Vote out those who help keep his curtain closed
before it is too late.
The man behind the curtain is a wizard and a clown
who loves the limelight and will never fight
to keep the nation safe, nor guarantee your rights.
The man behind the curtain entertains himself
by entertaining fear in everyone else.
Those who serve him bow down in disgrace
and forfeit the security of any safe space
to exercise their freedom of ideas.
They can no longer listen to you.
They must do what he says they must do.
He looks for a way to escape.
Leave him to stew.
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.
Only one thing is certain.
That is you.
VOTE!
Filed under POETRY
Goodness and Mercy
follow me every day,.
Their footfalls softly fall
As I make my way.
As darkness drops ahead
they lift their torches
to light my way,
comforting through nights
that threaten
To never go away.
I hear their voices
in children at play.
I feel their touch in hugs
from friends keeping loneliness at bay.
I share their laughs and smiles
with strangers on my way.
I am carried in their arms
by those who lift my fears away.
I accrue my many debts
but it is they who pay.
They carry me toward my fate
when I would wearily delay.
And, when it seems useless,
they remind me to pray:
“Thank you, Goodness and Mercy
for following me all my days.“
Filed under POETRY
Everyone grieves in their own way, so they say.
But, steadfast Grief remains the same.
Lips once tilted in joy, Grief holds tight with the strain
of holding back anger and keeping screams at bay.
Grief tightens the brow and hardens the eye
to hold back the tears which threaten to slide
tearing apart all that we hold deep inside.
Cheeks held too tight crease
and create runnels where tears may glide.
Grief clutches jaws held fearfully tight.
Once tears escape, will our held-back sobs fight
with a pulse so strong they can never be stopped?
Like a street thug, Grief pounds us into submission
and never takes time to ask our permission.
It pushes us down with pummels fierce and powerful.
Grief uses its bruising punches to keep us sorrowful.
We lie on hard pavements praying for the end to our suffering.
We feel we are losing our grip on reality.
We clutch at old truths, begging help to appear and lessen our sorrow.
Even Grief grows tired over time and lessens its blows.
Help comes when we unclench jaws and scream,
and shout, and let our tears and fears outwardly flow.
Soften the eyes. Relax the brow. Let the tears flow.
Tears wash away sorrow that new faith can be planted
in every tomorrow, with new ways to love
and new paths to follow.
Signs of grief always remain in new lines
that furrow about our lips, across the edge of our eyes,
and on necks which will, henceforth, our heads tip
slightly down, with greater humility, a bit.
Over time bruises heal, muscles grow stronger.
We learn we can handle the tough thugs who sit
on the sidelines, hidden in shadow.
We learn love again, embracing those who came to help.
We learn faith again, embracing those who prayed by our side.
We learn hope again, embracing those who helped us to our feet.
We stand again on loving, faith-filled, hopeful feet;
and, find a new path where joy and laughter can leads us.
We see our new selves in the eyes of those we pass.
We are stronger and last longer than Grief ever could.
Filed under Uncategorized
This day is the last day
that I am able to say
I am seventy-four.
My aching body feels the score.
I have pushed constantly my rock uphill.
Now, it pauses at the top, momentarily still.
I halt to feel the weight of years gone by,
the laughter and tears, the chuckles and sighs.
I am ready to cross the great divide
and slide downhill as my youth subsides.
It is downhill where I shall find
my fastest speed of all my time.
The wind feels stronger,
helping my journey, afraid no longer
of what awaits at the end,
or even, just around the bend.
The scenery blurs on the way,
replaced by memories of every past day.
Memories are more sure to my eye
then all that staccato-like flies by.
When I finally reach bottom
I can let the rock roll away, forgotten.
Finally, I can spend my days at play
take off my shoes, grinning teeth on display
and smiling with unbridled joy at the past
sigh to the heavens, “At last! At last!”
Filed under POETRY
Pollyanna is misunderstood.
She does not smile because
her world is perfect.
She smiles because
nothing is.
No disappointment finds its way
to destroy her imperfectly happy day.
Filed under POETRY
Prayer has been cheapened by the times.
We avoid the pews where fools recline
and bow their heads to fake news
while making money off government grants
for mega churches which promise service
to the poor and neglected,
the hungry and disaffected;
yet, vote against every effort to create
a more humane and equitable State.
And, where women fall for the line they are Eve
and evil to want sex
without admitting how complex
the use of birth control can be
when science is ignored and derided
that men can have all decided
in their favor. Their can be no life
when no egg is released to be indoctrinated
by men of the cloth who refuse to be sated
in their own desires. Instead, women are mired
in deceit and forced to bear the loss of self
to men’s control, if they want to feel blessed.
Enough of this unholy state
which calls on God’s will to compensate
for their failure to mirror God’s true grace.
Prayer has been lost amid the fray
of those who still kneel to pray
to overcome others who fail to tow the line,
and pay politicians to do their will.
Too many souls have learned to be still
while lies are told and children instilled
with false ideology and true evil;
and their very lives lost to thoughts and prayers
cheapened by the politics of fear.
The path to Heaven has disappeared
as we live through hell right now, right here.
Filed under POETRY
Memories of bridal veils and sharp edged crinolines
biting the legs, seated and held still in quiet pews,
hands tight on rosary beads, Grandma’s gifted pearls, twisted,
turning, clacking, in anxious prayer.
Feet planted on kneelers already down
to hold aloft tiny feet in lace-edged socks
in white leather shoes with silver buckles.
Seldom seen relatives from far and near appear
to grace the day so full of grace it overflows
until the urge to flee such attention lightens the air
and breath seems a solemn plea to rise and go.
As my memories do because there he sits,
solemn and silent, and ready as I am never,
with a strength and wisdom so rare
it settles the soul and stiffens the mind
reminding us of the moment soon to arrive
when Grace itself takes form in the Host,
a thought so alive we all rise to process up the aisle
all smiles of delight light us inside and out
as the Host melts on the tongue and our hearts shout
God is alive! As am I. As am I!
Unconditional love exists in this moment of bliss,
in communion with all others, our sisters and brothers
within a family, a church, a neighborhood block,
a city, a nation, an entire world
of people to love and bring inside hearts opened wide.
No human assessment of follies,
no judgement of errors done and undone,
no constant surveillance of sins yet assessed.
On this day
with this child
one only feels blessed.
It snowed again during the shortening night;
A staggering and mighty sight
to those who yearn for Spring sun.
I, among them, am one.
The daffodils, though, delight
standing as tall and as resolute as they might
to bear the weight of our expectation,
cheering us on heartily in exultation
that winter’s quiet and tight hold on us all
yet allows the cheerful to stand tall,
and welcome with unabashed delight
another snowfall during the night.
And, somehow, the world, again, seems right.
Filed under POETRY
annarino writes 
MERRY CHRISTMAS 2024
Hope is the deep breath needed to sing Carols
heralding Jesus’ birth.
Hope is the breath first breathed into all living things.
Hope is the breath that softens
the hard contours of defended hearts.
Hope is the breath that soothes
the rough edges of fearful minds.
Hope is the breath that animates
the graceful move to gift our very selves.
Hope is the breath that lifts
the blindness of hateful eyes heavenward.
Hope is the breath that challenges
the world to dream of peaceful, new beginnings.
Hope is the breath that stores
the strength needed for moments when courage is needed.
Hope is the breath that brightens and enlightens
the darkness within each breathless soul.
Christmas is a time for deep breaths filled
with hope to face another moment, day, month, year.
Keep breathing is all that is required to fill
the world with Hope.
Each breath keeps Hope alive.
Merry Christmas with every breath taken
deeper in every way, every day
during the Jubilee Year of Hope.
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Filed under COMMENTARY, POETRY
Tagged as breathe, christmas, courage, deep breathing, faith, good vs. evil, hope, Jubilee Year of Hope, opposition, poetry, Pope Francis, UNITY, war and peace