The Great Blue heron declares me an annoyance to which the Blue Jays rasp accordance – I know I am akin to predator but I come here with need to this bug-infested weed-ridden riverbed
To be
Torn as I am by an undefinable rustle, an inner bleed that craves patterns, or signs naturally occurring rhythms to define my place within this current worldly disorder
Yesterday I had to tell a young woman that the charity who were offering free flights out of Poland has discontinued the program. She shared that the countries around the Ukraine have also withdrawing help.
What could I say?
Many of us have stopped watching the news as the devastation is overwhelming. Television outlets now minimize reporting.
History repeats itself because humanity lacks the stamina to for the long haul. As many as 15 million Ukrainians will be displaced because of this war joining the 100 million displaced due to other world conflict.
I don’t have the answer to this dilemma; I’m just stating what I observe. Our collective priorities do not offer solutions. We fear losing our own status quo.
Is the writing on the wall so cryptic? Graphic images depict rage flames of dissonance young men bleeding at their own hands compassion incapacitated.
A sad awakening for a society fixated on rights and privileges, dominating culture excluding the nurture of humanity, or preservation of life.
How can we continue to closet our children’s pain – their vitality oozing – hopelessly abandoned by morality’s shelter?
It is the wall, not the spatters of blood upon it, which needs amending – adolescent minds too tender to wade through the cryptic priorities – messages divided.
(Cryptic first appeared here May 2018. Edited here. Image my own.)