We can’t straddle fences
once the barbed wire goes up.
We can’t walk a fine line
when the lines have blurred into nonexistence.
We can’t look the other way
when there ceases to be any other way.
If we concede that this is the best we can hope for,
we are forsaking hope and forsaking one another.
It's time.
In my cell I’m imprisoned,
I touch no one, none touch me.
Defined by this rectangle
beyond which I cannot see.
There are others: I can sense them
just beyond periphery.
If we’d only lift our eyes
from our cell phones we’d be free.
To honor my fourth grandchild. The first three:
Sun glides low across the sky;
Despite late rising, soon to set.
Scant light filters through the gloom
Diluted ‘til there’s no warmth left.
Still, give credit for the effort.
Kindle carefully the spark.
Perhaps tomorrow will be better, and
I’ll rise higher from the dark.
In response to
Burn the ballots, ban the books, bash the ones who disagree.
When did it become the norm to forego common decency?
Ignore the truth, assert your lies loudly and repeatedly.
And God forbid you dare to challenge ye olde patri-assity.
Why do you try to stop the votes, what do you fear so mightily?
Why must you foment rage and hate, distrust and blind antipathy?
Why lurk in darkness, wearing masks to veil your true identity?
Why hide behind your guns and flags, then call it Christianity?
I am not Dem nor GOP, to none do I pledge fealty.
I aim to act with common sense, with self respect and dignity.
Far from perfect, none too wise, often lacking clarity.
Perhaps we’re more alike than not. Let’s strive for peace and harmony.
It is the autumn equinox, where light and dark balance equally for a day before the scale tips to favor longer and longer nights.
Two days post surgery to repair a detached retina, I am sporting a bulky protective eye patch, my field of vision impaired to half light and half dark. I trust that this scale will tip toward the light as my vision is restored.
There are so many cycles in nature and life, ebbing and flowing, waxing and waning. I am thankful for all that I see.
two parts make a whole
dawn to dusk, then dusk to dawn
in perfect balance
In response to dVerse haibun Monday: Equinox.
A book is not about the cover that protects it.
A gift is not about the paper that wraps it.
A favor, though, is about all that surrounds it,
and not merely about the favor itself.
A favor is a gift of protection; of connection;
the resurrection of feeling secure and loved,
and the knowing that someone has your back.
A favor is about the wrapping; not mere trappings,
but the tapping into kindness and caring and
feeling seen and warmed by the soul of another.
When you do someone a favor, know that you, too,
will be fortified by the community you are
helping to create and maintain. Know that you, too,
will be enveloped in the love and wellbeing that comes
with the honorable act of giving.
“Crabs in a bucket.”
Anthropomorphized with ill intent,
they pull one another down
such that none escapes
ahead of another.
People in boxes.
We stereotype and generalize,
avoiding the rigors of thoughtful discernment.
Outside of buckets, crabs cooperate.
Without boxes, how might people be?
