Tag Archives: fear

ODE TO LINDSEY GRAHAM

Senator Lindsey Graham speaking at a podium with a microphone during a press conference
Senator Lindsey Graham addressing the media at a press conference in Washington, D.C.

How does one honor the dishonorable ?

Whose deeds and words were  unfathomable?

Not while he lived to injure and harm,

stepping on humanity to reach the stars.

It was always just part of his charm,

which gave him power to praise and assist

acts committed by others,

as he laughingly followed along.

Then, he died.

The rules change as custom required.

Speak no ill of the dead, 

as if evil deeds, too, expired.

How do the tears rent in our nation mend

if we must simply pretend

He was all goodness and light.

Such a memorial I cannot attend.

Who am I to judge? Imperfect in every way.

Silence is golden on a day like today.

He tried to do good, in his broken way.

I cannot offer false condemnation nor false praise.

I can simply write an ode to death’s malaise.

Finally, finally able, to continue to pray

for a soul laid to rest, as our struggle against hate continues.

Perhaps he can finally find love in his new venue.

This is all I can offer. This is my best.

Now, lay this flawed human being , like all of us, to rest.

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LEAD WITH THE HEART

Lead with the heart

and the mind will follow

a path of peace and hope,

strong enough to carry

dreams and generosity

for all those you meet.

No matter how difficult

the journey it will not be taken

alone, silently, fearfully.

The heart knows best what matters.

The heart knows the best path.

The heart unites us joyfully.

The heart beats life determinedly.

The heart overcomes strife.

Lead with the heart and do your part

to create a world worth living.

Some paths are famous and large.

Some paths are unrecognized and small.

Every path matters to those

who walk it and make it their own.

Every path converges as we move

into the great unknown.

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THE AGE OF PRETEND

Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva on Pexels.com

We find it charming, not alarming,

when children pretend.

The young boy child,

towel tied beneath his chin

and spread across small shoulders

waves an imaginary sword high

and suddenly feels bolder;

his power felt from head to toe,

ready to defeat any foe.

The young girl child,

Her American Girl doll in tow,

and dressed for the next chapter

she reads in her book which will show

how she can claim her place

in a world within her safe space.

It is a world of their own.

Children too often feel alone.

Childhood play is a godsend

when the acceptance of fear

is boldly met by playing pretend.

It does not stop at adulthood

when we need  for ourselves to fend

and parents’ efforts subside

as children claim adult pride.

Adults, too, need a reprieve

from threats vaguely perceived.

The woman alone in her bed

seeking a strong chest 

upon which to lay her head,

clutches her pillow instead

to lessen her dread.

She seeks a strong arm

to lessen her alarm.

The man alone on his couch,

in front of the TV, leaps from a crouch 

and shouts with untamed glee

when the quarterback throws free

and the opponent is defeated,

the pass completed.

The victory becomes his own.

At every age we pretend

to overcome what we fear,

what we do not feel strong enough to overcome,

what we imagine might cause unknown harm,

what we cannot imagine we can handle alone.

We are never, really, fully grown.

We fear we shall always be denied

the connected love our hearts need most.

We pretend the pride which allows us to hide.

What if, we stopped pretending?

What if we reached out for community?

What if we sought requited love in unity?

We live in an age of pretend.

When and where will it end?

Photo by Polesie Toys on Pexels.com

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INSOMNIA

Sleep catches me unaware

Reading in my chair.

A loud noise as a commercial airs

Awakens me from nightmares.

No, it is the news that intrudes

On waking dreams sharp and crude.

I have been awake more than I knew

Unable to tell what is untrue or true.

And so, I read some more

Of an entire reality to explore.

I try hard to understand and accept

A new reality in a democracy kept

Captive without due process of law

Which exposes all of our flaws.

Racism breathes deep and still

With a long-ignored strong will.

We too easily pretend

it has nothing to do with us, my friend.

Lie once and it becomes then

easier to lie again and again.

And we have lied for centuries now.

Shame beads sweat on every brow.

Cognitive dissonance

Makes us create distance

From truth, facts and connection.

Shamelessness offers protection.

Too many are willing to deny

What is clear to the clear-eyed.

I see no end in sight

And remain sleepless night after night.

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DREAM OF MY SELF

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In dreams we are known

in ways we can’t know ourselves.

Keep dreaming, my soul.

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WHERE HAS LOVE GONE?

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I do not know where love has gone.

Into hiding, I believe, free from harm.

So much anger clothed in love’s costume,

hate hidden from view so I am not consumed

by the true nature of what the costume hides;

all except the hands fisted by my side,

which velvet-suaded gloves still reveal

all the angry violence I could wield,

if I were not so terrified of the pain

I could visit upon others. I refrain.

I refuse to become just like those

who name-call with fake smiles and pose

under crosses, and above crowds,

saying the the ugly hate-filled truth out loud.

I desperately try to maintain my balance.

I believe compassion bears no allowance

to strike back when under attack.

But, turning the other cheek is a trait I truly lack.

Never take a punch and not fight back, I heard dad say.

But, never start the fight, if you can safely walk away.

Is this where we are now, afraid to put up the fists

when the attack is scheduled on government lists?

How long do we wait for the blows to fall?

How far before we are imprisoned inside the wall

of government ordnance and secret police?

How will we ever know any peace?

I do not know where love has gone.

I search and I search for however long

it will take me to find it and hold it tight

while I build strength for the coming fight.

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STRAINED SILENCE

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If you have nothing

good to say, then stay silent.

Strained silence today.

No “both sides” today.

As if some griefs matter more.

No “hate begets hate.”

If you have nothing

good to say, then stay silent.

Strained silence today.

Each life a sacred

moment expressed in earth-time,

born of the Divine.

If you have nothing 

good to say, then stay silent.

Strained silence today.

Civility shattered.

Podcast by podcast each day.

What really matters?

If you have nothing

good to say, then stay silent.

Strained silence today.

We all grieve always,

ev’ry moment ev’ry day.

Loss all around us.

If you have nothing

good to say, then stay silent.

Strained silence today.

Anger lies beneath

the surface of grief today,

fearing so much more.

If you have nothing

good to say, then stay silent.

Strained silence today.

Love is stronger, heh?

Tell us that another day.

Love now keeps silent.

If you have nothing

good to say, then stay silent.

Strained silence today.

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SHARED SHAME

Do you see the military

roaming city streets?

It is not my imagination

we are a threatened nation

about to lose our liberty.

The military which was once

our department of defense

against outside enemies

has turned its face within.

Now, it is the department of war

against those it would once defend.

We saw this coming.

We raised the alarm.

You answered with smarmy charm

that both sides do it.

What “it”? I ask. 

I do not make war against you.

I build no fence to enclose you

in concentration camps 

and jail cells with no chance of bond,

nor due process, nor rule of law.

You do all this and more.

You call me names to intimidate

and threaten my peace, my livelihood.

You take away my safety net, my health,

my happiness, my freedom to speak

and resist you. You call me your enemy

to justify your willingness

to let the constitution be tossed aside.

you no longer have integrity nor pride.

You can only feel shame if you have pride.

And you have no shame.

But, I…

I have enough pride for two;

enough to be ashamed of you.

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THE PERFECT STORM

Photo by Zeeshaan Shabbir on Pexels.com

We are in the midst of a perfect storm.

Those who seek perfection, especially

a perfection to match themselves,

which they consider the norm,

relish the chaos which leads astray

a nation once dedicated to the proposition

that “all men are created equal 

and endowed by their creator with the right

to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

What a lovely concept in sunny weather,

on a clear blue day.

But, those seeing red over perceived imperfection

cannot tolerate those who refuse to let the imperfect

get in the way of the possible.

They prefer to cut programs and taxes,

to keep their money in their own pockets,

show their personal largesse to those deemed worthy.

If only, they could see their own imperfections clearly.

We would not be in this frightful storm.

The winds of fascism and authoritarianism stir wildly

every manner, moral tome, and rule of law, and norm.

The rain of terror by masked militia in our streets

is more costly than housing the homeless,

feeding the hungry, educating our young people

who live with expectations of defeat.

The young see their pursuit of happiness and their freedom

being washed away, with inequality laid at their feet.

I do not believe in perfection. 

There are few perfect days.

Clouds are born by winds unseen 

shadowing perfection and laying it aside

while violent storms brew.

I do not seek the impossible. 

It is too costly and uncontrollable.

I know no policy nor program is perfect, as is no man.

Nothing makes us greater than to simply understand

we are all flawed human beings doing the best we can.

There can be no apology for silently marveling 

and supporting these dark days.

The perfect see no reason to apologize

for the greater wisdom of their ways.

We are left to raise umbrellas 

to protect as many as we can.

But, umbrellas are no match for perfect storms

created by our fellow man.

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MEMORIES

Memories

The heart’s memory

Holds truth close for but a moment.

Then moves beyond truth

To a greater reality

To become something more,

Something that can last challenging and comforting,

cherished and caressed

Through boundless eternity.

The stories we tell ourselves

May have little basis in reality.

The heart too easily

Makes fools of us all.

Yet, we become enthralled

As our stories unfold,

Especially with those stories

We have never told.

Held close to the chest,

Such untold stories

Make us look, and feel, our best.

Their power keeps us strong

And able to face all the rest.

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