Tag Archives: hope

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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HEAVEN ON EARTH

Photo by James Frid on Pexels.com

I have no knowledge of Heaven.

I have never been there,

except in dreams.

One thing I do know.

It must be a place where I

am surrounded by goodness,

fairness, compassion

and loving kindness

all of the time.

Heaven is the type of space

where hate has no place.

The sign in my yard

declares it to be so.

But, as we all know,

My selfish concerns sometimes show.

Creating a heaven on earth

may be an impossibility

because of my fragility

and lack of humility.

My human state has a dearth

of courageous purity.

Yet, still, I shall try to create

Heaven on Earth 

as a constant state.

The lack of goodness surrounds me

all too often these cruelty-laden days.

Kindness is the only way to delay

the triumph of evil over good.

I ask all those in my neighborhood

to join my effort, feeble though it be.

Any small kindness is stronger than cruelty.

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FREE THE STRAWBERRIES

Louise’s strawberry garden fenced to keep out chipmunks, squirrels,racoons,deer,rabbits,skunks and a variety of birds; allowing in rain, helpful pollinators, and insect enemies of other harmful insects. Rest assured the gate will be turned right side up and our American garden will once again flourish and produce sweet fruit. Patience and effort, constant weeding out those harming the garden. It takes time and is well worth the effort.

The fence is placed all around

The strawberries are in the ground.

The gate is upside down.

The harvest will be delayed

Dismantling what we made

hour by our, day by day.

Chaos alway brings change.

Gardens too rigorously defended

make fences necessarily upended

to reach fruit not intended

for anyone but a few

who fence out themselves, too. 

What is the gardener to do?

A gate is meant to let us through

to the crop we worked for,

and many of us died for,

a free country we yearn for.

We thought we planted within our reach.

We thought we had enough freedom to teach.

We never thought we would beseech

tearing down everything we had built

to avoid admitting our guilt.

The gate MAGA made is all atilt.

The fence is too high, clearly.

We are just so frustrated and weary.

We may never eat another strawberry.

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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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REPLANTING DEMOCRACY

Leonoras Widow’s Tears, from Breck’s bulbs, planted 4-24-2025

The Holland roots arrived today.

They still need to soak

before I can plant them

deep enough to grow.

What Leonora’s tears will bring

to the garden yet this Spring,

I do not yet know.

The soil is as dark as ever.

This is no reason to fear.

It does not mean it lacks

the ability to accept seeds that grow

into new ideas, new joys, new hopes

beyond our current capacity to know

what wonders in freedom’s garden

will seek light, grow upright and glow

amid the new plantings we start today,

across new paths and waterways,

across neighbors’ fields 

on new roads and byways

joining the others we already know.

Together we continue to sow

new seeds of freedom, perhaps hybridized

alongside the naturalized and native plants

that make our yards, our streets,

our neighborhoods, our nation states,

our very planet come alive again

in even more fruitful and beautiful ways.

I plant with hope this day and every day.

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LIGHT UP

Photo by William Melvin, April 2025

I am made of stardust

lit by sunlight.

Like lilies of the field

I dig deep into earth

with my toes.

Like birds of the air

I soar on currents stirred

when heat meets cold.

I seek. I soar. I laugh out loud.

I raise my face to the sun.

I dance in moonlight.

My spirit takes flight.

I grow strong.

My beauty abounds.

As earth, my earth

turns round and round.

Time has no meaning

I have found

except to tether my hopes

that change comes around

when most desired,

bright with sounds

of laughter, and courage

unleashed and unbound.

Rejoice in the day,

the month and the year

but stay in the moment.

Have no fear.

Photo by William Melvin, April 2025

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DARK TIMES

Photo by Raphael Brasileiro on Pexels.com

In the dark times

neither day nor night

bring about right.

We are forced

into our interior

and rely upon insight

and the subtle feel

of what our senses say is real.

We come to a stop,

to listen and recall

where we stand,

leaning against the wall

of remembered balance.

Perhaps we lean a bit,

Perhaps we sway

before trying to find our way

back into the light.

Standing still is no solution.

Going ahead despite our dread

of what can happen in the dark

is the only thing to be done.

It is the only way to bring back

brighter and happier days,

and nights when we can sleep

knowing we are safe.

Take my hand.

Together, we shall find our way.

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ART THERAPY& Haiku

Letting Go of the Old, acrylic on canvass, Louise Annarino, March 2025
Trump Speaks at DOJ, acrylic on canvass, Louise Annarino, March 2025

When things are too hard

to take, take to creation

within and without.

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FEEL THE BLUE

Acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino, March 2025

The natural world continues to create beauty, even if only within my mind on cold wintry days with snow flurries slowing the garden’s awakening. This nation will awaken. The ranks of the woke will increase. Blue-bliss will overcome blood-red. Our nation will flourish again with diverse gardens to delight every sense, and remind us of the endless possibilities of a free people, One Nation out of Many. Let this painting give you hope and bring you a measure of peace today.

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LIGHT CANDLES

Photo by Nadin Sh on Pexels.com

Altars of sacrifice are all around.

Candles of prayer light the ground.

Darkness recedes under great duress.

Lawyers are in full-court press.

Evil lurks and lunges until we despair;

its laughter and cheers rend the air.

Turbulent times make us all too aware

how humans carry a heavy load of fear,

how ready we are to disappear

before we lose heart 

and break apart.

We are tempted to remain abed

and close our eyes against  the dread

of monsters who long played dead

and hid under rocks, yet lived in our heads.

We live lives of useless malcontent

ready to blame the innocent

for acts of contrition that belong

not to the weak, but, to the strong.

Unable to admit we could be wrong,

we allow the liars to string us along.

We vote them in to replace our lost pride.

We set all reason and facts aside.

We wear red hats with slogans to hide

a weakness too fearful to abide.

When will such depravity end?

What harm done in the interim?

Soft exhales out in metered prose.

Screams trapped within a calm pose.

This is how every morning begins.

Candles relit on altars within.

Resistance alights again and again.

Another hour, another day, and then?

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