Tag Archives: hope

BY THE WAYSIDE

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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.

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AVOIDANCE

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All I want

is to avoid 

my own thoughts

lately clothed in fear

so pronounced 

they bring me to tears.

It finally must be said

anger fades to grief

when death brazenly nears.

Watching a beloved die,

clutching the hand,

wiping the brow,

for perhaps the last time

applies to nations.

I watch my beloved country

whose solemn vow

has always been protect and defend

all those living within

the boundaries of an idea in place

to open freedom’s gates

to all equally, within its small space.

I hold my nation’s heart and soul

with trembling hands 

and shortened breath.

In painful realization

that so many countrymen

in this amazing nation

fear not, nor mourn with me

the loss of our democracy.

Friends and family alike

smirk and snarl in true delight

the unleashed dogs of fear and fright

which rip apart all we have built

without a trace of grief nor guilt.

They break my heart

as they tear our world apart.

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FUTURE WAITS

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Future refuses to talk.

She holds her cards close.

No expression crosses her face.

Her fierce calm holds us in place.

We gamble our fortunes, our lives,

within her unfathomable space.

Withholding breath we wait

to discover our curious fate.

“Play the cards you have,” 

she says,“before it is too late.”

The game here now will last until

each card has been played.

Holding onto cards 

means new presents are delayed.

The young know this better

than their elders do.

The young play with greater abandon,

unconscious of the heavy stakes

that keep my eyes open all night through, 

awake, until light from a new day

through the closed blinds seeps through.

A new day.

A new game.

Time to play.

Future cuts the cards.

No time to waste.

Vote!

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WRITING

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“Start writing” the app says.

So easy is it to reveal

The secret places in the heart,

The solemn vaults in the mind,

The wounded spaces in the body?

Think that is not a really big deal?

Hiding from self seems the norm.

For a very good reason

From the day we are born.

First we must grow into one we know

Can protect and defend

The one we hide deep below.

What risk writers take to open wide

A self hidden and safeguarded inside.

Risk is too small a word for the task

Of showing self vulnerable, anxious, naked at last;

seeking connection inside you, with words that will last.

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GIVE US AIR !


Vice-President Kamala Harris and Minnesota Governor Tim Walz

August flopped heavily

Sweatily

Vociferously

and fully aware of the pressure

building in the heated

air.

Little relief in scattered 

rains that shattered

a populace already battered

by heated rhetoric

over the curtained waves of

air.

Two-thousand twenty-five

reasons to despair

the planned assault on our care

of one another and a planet

dumb-soaked without a care for

air. 

August is hard to breathe in,

in and out, and in again;

cheering on Harris-Walz

awaiting the slightest breeze of

air.

I can breathe again.

We can breathe again.

The earth can breathe again.

Finally, we can move forward again.

In November we can vote in cooled

air.

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WAKE UP THE YOUNG

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The older I get

the harder it becomes to

carry heavy hearts.

Young hearts are heavy

these days of heatwaves, flooding

and fires of war.

My own heart has slowed,

unable to speed or race,

beating a steady pace.

The young run shouting,

fueled by alcohol and fun,

circling around me.

I try to tell them,

straighten your path toward the goal,

a race to be won.

I shout from the sidelines

loss of freedom is gaining

on you, as you play.

Age carries no weight.

My words tossed away as trash,

as victory fades fast.

Woke becomes useless

for the young who sleep too late.

Please, now, come awake!

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Goodness and Mercy

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.“

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KEEP ON ROLLING

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Life is a circle

which rolls back along itself

in never-ending movement,

its motion so slow

we cannot see where it goes.

But going forward it is.

It reaches goals a mile a minute,

gaining speed on downward slopes.

Only then do we notice

the movement at all.

We roll with the punches

over new terrain,

fearing any moment we may fall.

But the circle keeps on rolling,

circling from beginning to end

then back again, moving forward 

all the while, where wheels 

are allowed to move freely.

There are those whose lack

of courage and curiosity

try to put on the brakes

and stop life’s relentless spin

into the future we cannot see,

looking backward as the wheel

spins forward over and over again.

Their fear grows with each 

forward motion

drowning in an ocean

of doubt and uncertainty.

They confuse beginnings with ends.

It is difficult to see

when so small we all be.

we look right and we look left;

too small to see

a wheel as large as infinity.

But never doubt, my friends.

We keep on rolling, rolling, rolling

moving forward over and over again.

Our progressive movement

is not a fall, 

from  grace; 

we are always in

the best place;

This time is simply

a new start after all.

We shall come through

as we always do

to new places

with new faces

new beginnings

that never end

but circle on,

and on again.

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BEHOLD THE SKY

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The river of color flows through the sky

weaving its way beneath and between

all that is seen and unseen.

Undulations of colors entwine 

the energy of the divine

with the hopes of humankind.

We fear the sky’s fall

bending our knees

hiding our eyes,

until we lose sight

of the wonder of it all.

Motion and change delight

and yet, we cannot grasp hold

of what is before our sight.

And this loss of control over the diversity 

and complexity of colorful skies

entraps and belies

a sense of self so small

it frightens us all.

The skies are not falling

simply because its colors shift.

The movement within the sky

can never send us adrift.

Gravity holds us all together,

keeps us spinning, it is true;

but, never allows us to go too far, too fast. 

It helps make the moments last

until we can understand

what we stand under,

an open sky which belongs to all.

Look up and behold the sky.

Reach up to touch the clouds.

Dance in the wind, bathe in the rain.

Never lose hope ever again.

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FROM UNDER THE ROCKS

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I cried the night Barack Obama was elected President.

Tears of joy released the exhaustion 

which I had carried door-to-door

for more than a year to those who too often

defiled all courtesy and shared community 

with unrecognized racism, or even with vile threats,

as I pleaded for their vote for HOPE.

While my colleagues cheered with broad smiles

I lay my head in my arms and sobbed. 

And, when they asked why I cried

I replied

“The backlash will be fierce 

by those who now recognize that white power

is no longer strong enough to support their hate.”

It was clear my fellow citizens would not long tolerate

power in the hands of an African-American.

The rage would be unleashed and revealed

from where it had lain hidden 

within our neighborhoods and institutions.

From that day on every African-American child

born after this date would enter a world where

dreams could be fulfilled, no matter how wild.

I rejoiced at this change of perspective,

but knew this would be just too much for a nation 

whose  history was built on white male supremacy.

Two steps forward. One step back. Progress moves

on and off-track until we wonder if we must go back.

We are not going back, just reconnoitering to find a new track.

That night, I dried my tears and planned my attack

ready to fight what I knew was coming and who would lead,

those who would block our progress at every turn

willing to let the country suffer and burn,

willing to break laws and undermine elections,

threaten and attack prosecutors and judges,

willing to engage in insurrection.

They have come up from under their rocks and we can see

those who have always threatened our democracy.

We know the way forward and we are strong.

So strong they know they have lost their control and that we

are moving beyond a world where only the good ole’ boys belong.

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