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.

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!

 

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.  

 

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.

 

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.  

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. 

 

The Importance of Darkness

The stars can't reach me 

I curse the streetlights that flood the bedroom

My eyes never sleep

The agitation makes me hot, my feet reach

Towards the cold darkness

On the other side of the bed

I know the stars are shining there

My eyes sleep.