Thursday, March 20, 2025

Darkness and Light at Equinox

The beauty of the daffodils and the forsythia alongside the house
stopped me short, to take this photograph. 
Death was the only thing on my mind, my heart heavy,
Tears flowing down my cheeks,  how 
Dare the brilliant yellows intrude upon the dark side of this equinox.
I am in the darkest place with the news this Spring, when 
We should have been rejoicing in sunshine, the light has turned
Away from us, from me, from those I love more than my 
Own small life.
I took out my phone to capture the beauty alongside my small house, 
The yellows are blurry with tears, but insistent to be noticed.
To call me into the light from this dark place.
Today I don't know how, but the daffodils and 
The forsythia will still be there this afternoon, 
Tomorrow, to greet me
Alongside my small house, they do not know
Grief, only beauty.  



 

Sunday, March 16, 2025

Rewriting

 


In the rewriting, I can find the downbeat,
Even if in a moment of silence, it's there, a steadiness
When the heel taps on wood floor, and upon rising finds
A flurry of sixteenth notes streaming forth
An energy, so necessary in these times.
In rewriting, the chaotic became manageable, and the 
Music navigable, the beat is within me and 
I can carry this into this dire time, find the downbeat,
Rest a moment, if needed, and reach for the next.

Sunday, March 9, 2025

Fight Time

And to those who are asleep, wake up!
To those who believe the horror will happen to someone else,
It will arrive at your door, 
You, the one who was stopped by ICE agent -
Even though you voted for Trump.
Yes, you who is getting advanced immunotherapy compliments of 
The government, it will stop for you, even though you voted for Trump
Regardless of what you do, what you have endured, the horror has
Arrived and will keep flowing through the open cowardly fingers
Of our politicians, now fearful of what they have created,
The fear and violence at their doors.
Wake up, America!


 

Thursday, February 27, 2025

Resting before the fight

Do not be deceived by the grey muzzle, the closed eyes in the recliner.  
We are ready to fight for our lives,
For their lives, for the children, the disabled and the elderly,
For us, for our Earth.
We may look sleepy in the recliner, but we will rouse ourselves 
From slumber, from the apathy that comes from the expectation of
A government that kept working,  the National Parks that welcomed us, 
The Social Security checks, children in school, nurses caring for us across America.
Having come to expect that everything will continue as it has,
We are awakened by the Orange Monster and the black MAGA hat,
The ones who dispense lies like the Pez we used to gobble in our childhoods.
Just as the sugar was not good for us then, this diet will kill us if we don't wake up.
Rest for today, but rise tomorrow for the fight, I will join you there.  

 

Sunday, February 23, 2025

Signs of spring

The sheets will smell of sunshine and wind, of Spring
Of snow, yet, and the chill of departing winter mixed with 
The heat of the sun, it's all so divine, Spring.
The grass was never raked, the leaves in sodden layers of rot,
The smell will rise to the sheets, to be mixed with sun and snow,
And warmth, infusing my dreams with the promise of Spring.

 

Saturday, February 22, 2025

It was terribly dark

 It was terribly dark, the mosquitoes buzzed in my ear
The kitchen sink did not drain and the faucet dribbled cold dank water
This was not the kitchen I was thinking of, this was not the place I was thinking of
This was not the friend I was thinking of, no, not this one
This is not the one that I made up in my mind,
This is not the bedroom that I dreamed of, the buzz of mosquitoes
In my ear as I lay in the dark.  
I left all the lovely gifts in the kitchen, and I walked away
Never to return, never to talk to this man who turned out not to 
Be the man I thought he was, instead a cold man living in 
A terribly dark world, mosquitoes buzzing around his 
Tormented mind.  

Monday, February 3, 2025

Cooking in Dakar

He said that we should cook together
So could I bring the required utensils, pots, pans
And spatulas, mixing spoons and a sharp knife.
I mingled with those who shop discount at GoodWill
Awed by the goods and their prices, at what the more moneyed
Can throw into a box for the less moneyed.
Those spatulas that need to be replaced with a new color,
Or a saute pan, seemingly never used, that seeks a new home.
Why not Dakar,
Where the flame of a propane tank will sear a locally caught fish,
I can't wait to smell the delicious odor of fried fish
Mingling with the fresh breeze off the ocean.