Tag Archives: woke culture

MORNING DOVE

Photo by Veronika Andrews on Pexels.com

Morning brings us mindless enterprise

until Brain sorts itself sorts itself out

and finds a side to lean on as

rational thoughts begin to unsteadily rise,

as do we, from beds draped in blankets

and dreams, soon lost in shallow mists.

uncertain what this new day will comprise.

We only awaken when the world makes sense again

and each moment of each hour of this day stops

being a devastatingly horrible October surprise.

Which may explain why so many refuse to awaken,

fearful of what the day may bring to their side.

Living in the dawn of denial and refusing to think

keeps nightmares hidden behind false pride.

Which may explain why so many fear being woke,

and despise those awake, yet steadier, than they are.

It is easier for some to remain in the dark ages,

unable to face each new day with hopeful anticipation.

The unstable on their feet, pushed around in misdirection,

bombarded steadily by false presentation on their way

to the kitchen from the bedroom to prepare for work,

which may or may not be securely theirs if AI has a say.

In darkness, they color outside the lines of common sense,

unable, and scarily unwilling, to follow a rational conversation;

or simply refuse to move an inch, holding on to the fence.

We all need a simple cup of coffee, for satisfaction.

We all need a moment, or two, of silent reflection.

We all need to accept our common imperfection.

We all need a personal course correction.

We all need to reassemble our sleepy thoughts

and start behaving as we ought.

We are stronger than we know.

We can stand on our own.

we can let fear go back to sleep

as we awaken on balanced feet

facing each new day.

That is no mean feat.

It was never meant to be.

We were made from and for love.

We are the morning, not the mourning, dove.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

AWAKE AT TWO

I started to wake when I was two.

Before I knew 

to look at anything or anyone

for something other than

who they were,  or

what they could do.

Color, gender, wealth or age

meant nothing to me.

I was almost brand new.

I had no context to see

why such differences

should matter to me.

Mom and I were shopping

in the bargain basement

of the Five and Dime store

when I suddenly awakened in awe

to the most beautiful woman I ever saw.

“Mommy, I shouted with delight.

Look at the chocolate lady.”

The lady smiled. Mommy frowned.

She took my hand, turned me around,

and bending down 

instructed me in a hushed voice,

“It is not nice to comment 

on how anyone looks.”

The Lady saw my distress and guessed

I felt I had done something bad.

But, she smiled as if she were glad

and simply asked me with tender care,

“Do you like chocolate, little one?”

In joyful glee I replied “it is my very favorite thing.”

Mommy sighed, and apologized 

for her daughter’s lack of manners.

“No need” was the reply. 

And with a loving smile she knelt at my side.

“Thank you,” she said, “for seeing me

and thinking of me so lovingly.

And so I learned that day to stay awake

and notice all the wonderful people

surrounding me,

sharing love so easily.

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Filed under FAMILY STORIES, POETRY