I made a joke.
A tired, stale joke.
Slowly, reluctantly
almost in spite of yourself,
you laughed.
And life seemed good.
17 June 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Category Archives: Poem
Joke
Filed under Poem
Watch, pray and weep
We watch,
we pray,
we weep.
As blood flows,
society implodes,
agony unfolds,
and the pile of corpses grows.
We watch,
we pray,
we weep.
We call the international community
to move
to intervene.
We watch,
we pray,
we weep.
We give to humanitarian causes
who raise the alarm
and count the bodies.
We watch,
we pray,
we weep.
It is not enough
never is it enough,
but it is all we have,
So though our
heart breaks,
our spirits recoil,
our stomachs retch,
we turn not away.
We watch,
pray,
and weep.
16 June 2011
Shire on the Hudson
As reports of violence in Sudan mount
Filed under Poem
Not alone
Not alone, we stand together,
for alone one could not stand.
Not alone, we stand together,
soul to soul and hand in hand.
Not alone, we stand together,
aching hearts, but spirits strong.
Not alone, we stand together,
watching, waiting, working,
when others turn away;
seeing, hearing, feeling,
what others would avoid.
Not alone, we stand together,
facing suffering, sharing pain,
seeking justice, pursuing peace.
Not alone, we stand together,
wounded,
surely wounded,
sorely wounded,
still we stand.
Not alone, we stand together,
armed with faith
and armed with laughter,
hope and weeping,
dreams and love.
Not alone we stand together,
for alone we could not stand.
26 July 2001
Colorado National Monument, Fruita, CO and Orem, UT
with thanks to Diana Cheifetz
Filed under Poem
The next wave
Without warning,
memories bubble to the surface,
absent faces loom before me,
grief crashes remorselessly into my heart,
rips at my spirit,
reopens unhealed wounds,
provides painful reminders:
words regretted as they passed my lips,
unsaid words forever rued,
deeds neglected,
love denied.
Shortcomings, missteps,
failures, and betrayals
wash through my memory,
flood my mind.
Tears flow freely
as I slowly,
painfully
rebuild my defenses
until the next wave,
until the next wave.
10 June 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Children laughed and smiled
In a place,
a place like too many others,
where poverty stalks the streets,
grinding the people in its deadly embrace,
children laughed and smiled at me today.
1997
Guguletu Township
Cape Town, South Africa
Filed under Poem
Jump
“Jump,” he said.
His khakis neatly pressed,
the white man held the copper coin
just above the outstretched fingers
of the small black child
whose ragged jeans flapped in the breeze
as he vainly sought
to reach the treasure.
“Jump.”
“Jump,” they say.
Suffocating in affluence,
they hold up meager morsels –
paltry offerings, contingent upon their whims –
to sisters and brothers in need,
forcing them into games they do not understand
to obtain the pittance
which may allow them to survive.
“Jump.”
“Jump,” we say.
The rich, the powerful, the strong:
unwilling to challenge the status quo
seeking not justice
which recognizes relatedness
and brings enlivening co-equality
but offering only the charity
which demeans, denies, degrades.
“Jump”
8 September – 10 September, 2001
Pinetown, South Africa and Louisville
Filed under Poem
Questions
When simple kindness
and common decency
become worthy of praise,
it is good to ask:
How deeply
do wounds cut?
How sharply
are lines drawn?
How tightly
are doors closed?
How scarred
are human souls
How broken
are human hearts?
How violated
are human spirits?
How strong
are hatred and fear?
7 September – 10 September, 2001
Pinetown/Durban, South Africa; Louisville
Filed under Poem
Somewhere west of Albuquerque
Somewhere west of Albuquerque,
one star hangs defiantly
above the far horizon;
the sky turns
forty shades of blue.
A coyote mournfully howls
as I surrender to night’s embrace
and gentle dreams of you.
Summer 2001
West of Albuquerque
Filed under Poem
Children of the colonized
No water runs,
no electricity flows
to the shacks
made of
cardboard, wood,
tarpaper, tin,
and whatever other material
lies at hand,
within which,
midst hunger and pain,
violence and want
on what was once
their ancestors’ land,
the children of the colonized
continue
and
suffer
and
die
and
love.
9 September 2001
Isla de Sal, Cape Verde Islands
Filed under Poem
Along the Graybeard Trail 