Back to the source

Deep within our souls, 

There is a place that looks and feels like this: 

Dark, and cool; still, and very green; 

The place from which wisdom and comfort flow; 

The root of our compassion, 

The source of all creative thought, 

And that which feeds our hope and courage 

When things seem insurmountable. 

Go there now, and be restored, 

That we might live to fight another day.

When things ICE over

Astonishing, that when things look so dark, 

The Sun still rises in the morning, 

Bathing the world in colors so rich, 

One might think we’d never want for more— 

That is, of course, until they fade 

Again to gray, 

Extinguished by the cruelty of ICE.

In memory of Renee Nicole Good

The evidence is there, 

Right in front of us, of wrongdoing, 

And still there are those 

Who would defend it with lies. 

We watch in horror, wondering, 

What next offense will be revealed, 

And now it’s not just my poetry, 

But hers that’s been diverted 

By the ugliness of this administration.

Stop whining!

My mom used to say, “If you can’t stand the heat 

Get out of the kitchen!” Which didn’t mean

“If you don’t like it, leave,” 

But rather, “Stop whining and solve the problem!” 

And soon I learned to make a list: 

Ten things I could do to deal with the situation.

But frankly, some days, I’d rather just whine…

A rainbow of hope

It’s January 6th again, 

Five years after the capitol insurrection, 

And across the sea of my negative thoughts, 

Beneath the clouds of discouragement, 

I’m pleased to see a tiny rainbow of hope, 

And pray that it will grow into a world 

Where all the colors are once again 

Welcomed and appreciated.

Moving forward

With the new year comes a new path: 

It may not be clear where it’s going, 

And I can already see 

That there will be obstacles, 

No promise of safety, 

And no guarantees of success, 

But steps must be taken if we’re to emerge 

From this feeling of helplessness, 

Powerlessness, and inertia.

A tiny beam of hope

When so much is so wrong in the world,

 I find this wee shed heartening:

 The thought that, for however long 

It took the moss to cover this roof 

And the ivy to climb up its walls 

This shed’s allowed a trusting exchange 

Of fresh eggs, gathered by human hands, 

And money, left by grateful neighbors, 

Reassures me: 

Somewhere there’s still hope and honesty…