it seems like the world’s on the cusp
of all things dark and cruel
where the lights are slowly going out
where suddenly, there are no rules
where hatred gets first billing
and greed comes a close second,
where kindness hides in the shadows
where no sanctuary can beckon
the maligned ones to come to –
for they’ll be among the first to go
along with the poor and the weak,
where to? I don’t yet know.
but for the hope that lies inside me,
I pray the light will go on,
I hope you’ll keep it alight
until the last of us is gone.
she’d always been the prudent one,
the girl who played by the rules
until He set a game for them,
far from what she’d always known
to be good.
But she knew when to walk away
and when to stay calm,
and on nights when He’d let
his demons out, she knew better
than to run.
For wasn’t that how love was?
Sometimes gentle, sometimes rough?
But never too much that she’d
fear His touch; He was more
I used to believe
that the world was kind,
that underneath all our trappings,
we’re all of one heart
But as each day goes by,
I cannot help but see
that the things I believe in
are becoming harder
Kindness, love, acceptance…
sometimes I find myself wondering
where have they all gone?
When the day is over, are we
But within the fringes,
I see it, this glimmer they call hope.
Maybe one day, you and I will find it
and we’ll learn to do more
than just cope.
you tell me,
he will come
the love I’ve been
the man my heart
until the day comes
when he’ll betray me
for he’s as fallible
as all the rest,
for even hearts
are wrong sometimes –
they don’t always know
NaPoWriMo Day 1
Today would have been your birthday
though I don’t remember how old you would have been,
the years since you passed away marked by poems
of things not felt and sights not seen
dulled by the years of living a lie
Was that your life, too,
just before you died?
I’m in a holding cell of emotions
stripped raw and confused
not knowing what is good for me
while I sit here, soul abused
by needs unmet, though I know not
what they are –
by unanswered screams that deeply cut
leaving nothing but pain and scars
When my 7-year-old son asked his father today
what the Museum of Tolerance was,
“It’s a scary place, son. And creepy, too,”
he replied with barely a second’s pause.
“You’ve never even been there,” I told him,
“You have no idea what you’re saying.
For even though history may at times be scary and creepy,
there are events in the world we can’t bear repeating.”
“He needs to know what happened,
we can’t allow the guilty wipe the slate clean.
He needs to know everything he can about tolerance,
its meaning, its virtues, and the world that could have been
if only people stopped being hateful,
ignorant, and full of prejudice,
for our son needs to know that now,
before someone else tells him for us.
For history is now being rewritten,
and we cannot let them wipe the bloodied slate clean
We need to remember and never forget
all the things that happened, every ounce of hatred felt and seen.
It’s difficult to breathe some days
when all you see are walls going up
isolating you from everything you hold dear –
freedom, the truth…
there’s nothing left to hold the lies back
but the will to keep on fighting
even as the walls start closing in
till you’re left with nothing but flimsy hope
just before your world grows dim
what’s the world coming to?
what’s happening to everything we worked for?
every freedom we thought we had, eroded
right after precious right,
can we truly take any more?
when the few are blinded by greed
and power and scorn
the walls are rising, closing in…
and, in fear, the world is reborn
“Let’s look at the ocean, mom,”
my little one says
as he takes a seat on the pavement
and looks up ahead
where I see more than just the ocean
but the harbor I call home,
“It’s beautiful, mom. Isn’t it?”
And I smile and say, “yes, my love,”
my dear heart now all grown.