I am a retired teacher, enjoying everything that retirement means. In addition, I have been active in the LGBTQ community since I was four years old and marched my Ken doll with all his little Ken accouterments to the big metal trash can in the yard. Yes, I dumped Ken, along with said accouterments, into the can and slammed the lid on. My two Barbie dolls lived happily ever after.
I wrote this in response to seeing the protests organized by the students who survived the Parkland shooting. I was hopeful that their anger focused in this positive way would bring about some positive change. But today, with 19 elementary school students and 2 adults now dead in Uvalde, Texas, I felt it might be time to revisit this in tribute to the students who have lost their lives in these continual senseless acts of gun violence. We must all say, “No more.”
Innocence, a fairytale idea, Sacrificed along with safety- Burned as sweet, bloody incense On an altar to the Second Unrestrained, unrestricted The true worship contained In this strange amalgam of green and gold, Gunpowder, lead, and power Causing some confusion In steel tongues touting The sanctity of life And rights to any guns in prayers.
Our children, now are Born in a skin of fear, And do what we have not— Stand up and say No more.
Spring threatens to melt into us.
Summer follows soon enough.
Birds will return, seeking seeds and worms,
Building nests for the young to come.
Will the birds remember the songs they sing?
Songs of summer, songs to mate?
Flowers will emerge, warming their petals
And leaves under a brilliant sun.
Will they remember how to open
Their blossoms?
Will they remember how to dress themselves
In glorious color?
How can the birds or flowers remember
When the world walks a tightrope
Over the abyss
And sunflowers may never grow again
Tall enough to bow their heavy heads to God?
Today a woman went mad in the supermarket.
All too much for her, you might say.
No one with a mask, then the jeers and the insults.
It proved too much for her sensible logic.
They say it was due to this pandemic.
But she railed against the idiotic
Who kept us on this carousel,
Going round and round and round
With their circus clown theories
‘Bout reasons for variations and this virus.
“5G waves,” she screamed as she used a frozen turkey
To smash the glass where the frozen chicken nuggets
Stood, waiting to be grabbed by anxious parental hands.
“Designed by big pharma for profit,” she yelled
As she used a frozen cry-o-vac of pork ribs
To smash the deli section all to hell.
“Wonder why there’s no Polio?!”
As she overturned the endcap of Velveeta.
“You wear a damn seatbelt. Don’t you, fool?” As she threw oranges…
Leaves half dead brown
half living green dappled
with the gold of hope,
sparkling, dangle from the tree
as if life clutched within
holds a secret
on this wonderful warm winter
afternoon—
masquerading as a spring day--
joyous—these leaves
reflecting light like crystals
of a fancy chandelier--
yet the leaves,
fragile as they are,
will fall upon the forest floor
with tomorrow’s cold winds
which they cannot withstand
and my heart, like the leaves—
not green enough
to withstand
assaulting winter
but today, today—
chooses to clutch
at the hope
in this masquerade of spring.
Close the blinds
against the grey light.
Prepare a cave for the soul
in cold January
as the wind rages.
Contemplation, prayer
like John of Patmos?
This cave
readied, awaits
the apocalypse
devils wish.
Each new year brings
Now this garden grief
Nourished by regret
Each year, this day, here—
Standing, kneeling, sitting—I
Spend tears, words, wishes
All meaningless now,
In the barren garden grief
Flowers never bloom
Seven years gone now--
Nothing roots, though it has tried,
In the garden grief inside
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