Tag Archives: loss

MY FELLOW AMERICANS

MY FELLOW AMERICANS

I hold my tongue.

It takes strength I do not have.

Whimpers escape

On shattered breaths,

In silent screams.

The fight worries my soul,

Battle weary and choking,

On words held tight inside.

Once the scream begins

I doubt I could stop.

I wait for your speech.

I yearn for your promise

To stop the authoritarian

Who has taken over our house,

Emptied its vaults,

Stolen its wealth,

Sold its power

To the highest bidders.

So, I write. That I can do

While I wait for you.

To me, this nothing new.

Do you believe me now?

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

REGRET

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When even words hurt

too much to write on a page,

it is time to stop.

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THE WAY TO PEACE

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Even if I could

give you peace

I am not certain I would.

Struggle breaks apart

and shreds the comfortable ways

we hold in our hearts.

Discomfort makes us let go

of ideas held taut by thick skins.

It make us eager to run to and fro

to shake off the pain and instead

become free to fly beyond

the old ideas lodged in our heads.

I would not have you wait for permission

to embrace the battle inside.

I would have you take over the mission

to set fear and pride aside.

True peace only arrives

when our hearts are torn asunder,

and we discover

what makes us truly alive.

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GRIEF

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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.

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AGING SPACES

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Somewhere along the way

the package I carried has been mislaid.

Since I did not notice it missing until today

its importance has made little impact, I’d say.

The years rolled by day-after-day.

space where the package once stayed

grew dusty with age.

Until the day, where nothing could stop the rage

of loneliness filling page-after-page;

searching for communion with those not my age.

Old connections are no longer stable and sure

as death knocks at too many old friends’ doors.

That space covered in dust reminds me anew

of those friends I mislaid as loneliness grew.

Seeking youth and more life is nothing new.

But, I know this to be true.

Old friends can never be replaced.

Their faces remain. They occupy my space.

Their love for me is my only pride.

Dead or alive they fill every space inside

where memory and love will always abide.

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Filed under POETRY

HAIKU

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Unwanted love goes

beyond the path laid in hedge rows

into wilderness.

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TWO YEAR OLD’S LAMENT

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“Shot.”

“Mom shot.”

“Dad shot.”

Dad lying atop

my tiny body.

Dad blocked

the shot

and the new word

death taught.

The new word

killed Mom.

Killed Dad.

Killed Family.

Killed us all.

Shot,shot,shot,shot!

Shot,shot,shot,shot!

Shot,shot,shot,shot!

Repeat it with me

over and over and over.

Mom shot.

Dad shot.

Shot,shot,shot,shot!

words no two year old

should know.

Shot,shot,shot,shot!

Shot,shot,shot,shot!

Shot.

Shot.

Shot.

Shot.

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Filed under POETRY

For Wendy

Jewels like crystals shine

Across the frozen face of snow.

We say avoir, not good-bye.

For all we know

Light never dies

But quietly moves it’s glow

to other sights and sites

where Jewel now delights

In her new life.

And, yet, we mourn

Our grey-grief days

where Jewel once shown

in lives of our own.

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Filed under POETRY