Home has come crashing
Wake to find stillness
grounded deep in red clay
home has come crashing
perfectly into place
nestled among roots and grooves
cradled in leaflets
Look beyond your reach to find
growth
inch on inch along slender stems.
You sway
sinking into place.
Roots clambering over every obstacle,
shaping yourself to your place.
The strip of clay is long and narrow,
caught between two impenetrable barriers.
You will break them one day,
stillness expanding out
stretching this crack in the pavers
molding a new home.
-Samantha Grossman
******************************************************************************
A TORN NATION
We wait for the vote to tell our futures
seated together like expectant brides
or wounded patients in need of sutures.
How much more will we be asked to abide?
Seated together like expectant brides,
we hope for a groom who’s kind and gentle.
How much more will we be asked to abide
from the lout who wants us more judgmental?
We hope for a groom who’s kind and gentle,
who cares for our lives, knows loss, wears a mask.
Not the lout who wants us more judgmental:
Dividing us is his best-performed task.
Who cares for our lives, knows loss, wears a mask?
Not the bozo in charge of every state.
Dividing us is his best-performed task.
New Yorkers, he says, he won’t vaccinate.
Now as our lonely holidays draw near,
we wait for the vote to know our futures.
We want a leader who won’t instill fear.
to mend four years of wounds needing sutures.
Lanette Sweeney
******************************************************************************
Looking for Things to…
I’m in search of things to write about—
Big things like when we crossed the big waters
And the way they opened their doors
To let us through, and driving
Through the big flakes of snow.
But I also look for small things
That fit in the palm of my hand,
And raise them to light my heart.
Big and small things are in the eyes
Of beholders. Don’t ask me how the Theory
Of Relativity works, but in my mind
The big and small alike find their places
In my crowded inner world,
Including the unsung anthem
That turned into a lullaby barely
Remembering the finishing line.
In that crowded space—overworked
And tangled like gossamer,
Small things leave small foot prints
Without popping threads,
But what do the big things do to us—
Like the deep, turbulent dark waters
Of deaths, loss, and rejection?
I can’t rewrite the history of big things.
I can’t sail back against the time loaded
With winds and currents.
But I can bring small things–
Easily portable and amenable
To sail on, and eventually I’ll be back
To the dark place and find a new small thing
That fit in the palm of my hand.
Yenna Yi
********************************************************************************
Fixing the Hearts
How can we fix
all the holes in all the hearts?
There has been such leakage for so long,
why aren’t we awash
in blood and tears?
The pain is so distributed that those with,
can’t tell the difference
from those without.
Ignorance is widespread.
We can dance and sing,
and do so with some success,
but still the hearts leak.
We can feed them
and try to make them safe.
But we can’t fix the holes
in all the hearts.
Tears can help, and keep us afloat,
But how can we fix
the holes in all the hearts.
The holes keep forming
and we keep plugging.
I dream of the day when we
start to fix the holes
in all the hearts.
I must cling, we must cling to the dream,
and then, perhaps then
we can start the good work.
Paul Redstone
********************************************************************************
AGING
Trying to be politically correct
Hastily exited Facebook
Entry password surrended
Unfriended
Our online affair ended.
No wallowing in aging fears
Wiped my mirror
Of its crocodile tears
Remade my face
To greet the Millenial faces
I longed to meet.
So off I race
To enter My Face
Surprise !
What me deleted?
Site bought by TIME
Gone and I am short a rhyme?
Geo Cernada