It is morning.
It is after.
For those who passed through
Hurricane Sandy
Tropical Storm Sandy
Nor’easter Sandy
Frankenstorm
it will,
as for anyone
who lives through any
significant, dramatic, traumatic event,
always be after.
It is morning.
It is after.
In varying degrees of
shock and grief,
faith and hope,
assessment begins,
analysis begins,
recovery begins,
rebuilding begins.
It is morning.
It is after.
30 October 2012
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Current Events, New York, Poem
From the comfort of my home,
I watch NYU Hospital being evacuated –
patients, sometimes children,
carried down the stairs
(for the elevators do not work),
riding on gurneys,
accompanied by medical personnel,
emerge from the building
where EMTs meet them –
shield them from the wind and wet –
hustle them to the first ambulance
in the queue, its lights flashing.
As the patient gets on board,
the ambulance leaves
and another takes its place.
Tears run down my cheeks
toward a broad smile.
29 October 2012
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Current Events, New York, Poem
Again I wait in privilege.
This time the date is with
Sandy, not Irene.
Hurricane?
Tropical storm?
Frankenstorm?
Whatever name,
I wait.
Sandy approaches.
I have worked my way
through the preparation drill.
Candles bought.
Batteries obtained.
Electronic products recharged.
Water bottled.
Food purchased –
what happens to year-old applesauce?
Does it go bad?
Does it ferment?
I straighten the apartment,
move and position items –
later tonight I will fill the bathtub
and light again the sentinel.
I prepare.
I wait.
Watching football.
Tweeting, posting.
Contacting family, friends
I wait.
I wait and I remember,
yet again,
the privilege that is mine:
I have a place,
a solid place,
a dry place,
a safe place:
a roof above,
walls around;
I have
water to drink
and water to flush;
I have flashlights, candles for light
food that needs no cooking;
clothes to keep me warm;
loved ones who will check upon.
So much I have,
while sisters, brothers have but little,
while brothers, sisters have none at all.
I wait and I remember,
yet again,
the privilege that is mine
I wait and I pray,
for those who have too little,
for those who have too much,
for myself.
I wait and as before I wonder,
after the waiting,
after the storm,
what I will do differently
with the privileges that are mine?
28 October 2012
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Current Events, New York, Poem
With thanks for the courage and witness of the Rev. Marcia Mount Shoop, An Open Letter to Politicians about Rape, Jessica Valenti, Ending Rape Illiteracy, Soraya Chemaly, 50 Actual Facts About Rape, Julie Bishop Craig, What Men Don’t Know About Rape, and others, some reflections:
rape is
rape
rape is
control
domination
violation
exploitation
rape is
assault
crime
violence
abuse
rape is
denial of
personhood
humanity
God’s image
rape is
never legitimate
never deserved
never gray
never, never, never
rape is
rape
rape is
to be stopped
because
rape is
rape
Shire on the Hudson
27 October 2012
Filed under Current Events, Human Rights, Poem
Spring’s first blush
kisses me as I push my way
through the door,
onto the porch;
my old hips groan louder than the hinges.
One, two, three painful steps, I shuffle
to the post where I stop and lean
as I try to catch my breath.
Air fills my lungs anew,
as my gaze falls upon the field:
unplowed,
unworked,
untouched it stands.
Tears well in my eyes –
it will stay that way this year.
My sons,
my proud, precious sons
will not plow or
work or
touch the field
or any field
this year
or year.
They forever lie,
in peaceful repose I hope,
in some
unknown, unnamed field:
some
God-forsaken,
God-blessed,
God-damned,
Virginian field,
victims, as are we all,
of this unending war.
Never will my boys
love or
play or
work this field again.
In peaceful rest,
they forever lie –
so I hope,
so I pray.
From the South,
a crow flies into sight,
its raucous call
breaks my reverie.
I rub one gnarled hand
against another –
hands twisted by life will never again hold a plow –
and I wonder if
down in Virginia, where Spring has surely come,
some spent, used-up man, some grieving father,
whose sons marched away to bugle’s call under flapping banners,
now gazes on a field
unplowed,
unworked,
untouched,
and remembers, wonders, weeps.
with thanks to Don Shriver
DL 5759
5 October 2012
Filed under Poem
In three-piece suits
and pressed dress whites
and shorts too short to wear
they pass by the Hard Bean Cafe
while Squire Howard
registers participants
for the 2:30 colonial walking tour
and I watch and wonder.
22 September 2012
Annapolis, MD
Like a clutter of spiders,
the cold crept over him,
probing old wounds,
prodding old pains.
He stirred; but half-awake
he searched the bed.
Touching nothing,
finding no one,
he remembered, shivered,
pulled the cover tighter,
and sought again
sleep’s refuge.
18 September 2012
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
My friend and colleague Joe is also a poet. I always enjoy the work he shares. When I had read and re-read this one, I finally got up the nerve to ask him if I could post it. I am grateful he said yes and grateful for his writing.
ANOTHER TUESDAY: Red White & Blues
Another Tuesday indeed.
Bright shining spectacular morning sun rising.
Fresh almost autumn breezes.
Another wonderfully grateful start the day.
Calmly remembering.
English friend’s prayer from across The Pond.
Knotting key stripes tied to anniversary.
Rush run catch express bus into Manhattan.
That Tuesday changed road ride to work til now.
Like US flags half-staffed commuters conscious.
Where we were where we are now then again.
Quiet movements search hopes, peace, hope.
Words not needed facts speak for themselves.
Carefully conscious going forward together.
Through urban cavern slice of Freedom Tower soars.
Rising up, shining rising new, far, tall beyond beyond.
Stirs so many so much living monumental memories.
Large tear freezes moment reminding roots + links.
Decade plus red, white blues color considerations.
Uptown Midtown pause respects at US Mission to UN.
Holy Family Church steel relief Easter Christ soars too
Deep stained glass blues, saints letting light through.
Candles in calm reverence seeing all naming names.
Echo arrives Ground Zero officer speaks his heart.
Praying prayers rising up here everywhere today.
Family first, friends too, neighbors, near/far colleagues.
Beyond morning rushing other side of silence rises up.
Day’s works here & around spinning universe challenge.
Seize the Abundance, hold on, stand firm, reach out.
Still Tuesday.
Still NYC, Washington, Shanksville, our world.
Still hopes carrying losses courageously.
Still fears unpredictable, uncertainties, unknowns.
Still amazing graces given, shared, treasured.
Still paths to peace possible – necessary all.
Still – HOME.
joseph cornelius donnelly
tuesday, september 11, 2012 – new york city
Filed under Current Events, Friends, New York, Poem
We neither
feel nor hear
the wind;
we remain
dry afar
from rain;
we safely
sit and wait
on board
as the storm
its fury
expends
on New York
where journey
will end.
8 September 2012
Midway Gate B-3
Southwest 1945
Along the Graybeard Trail 