The Test

If there ever has been a test
to measure the worth of mankind,
this is it: Fate’s arrow points
to the crises amongst us:
human sanctity at risk

Why then have so many flipped
the question: answered hatefully
when love is the only response?

(Image my own. This poem originally appeared on Twitter @Vjknutson.)

Says the Bird

You misconceive the calling,
says bird in bush –
troubled times
call for comfort
not derailment
of humanity –
petty, bickering
without soul –
I may be bird-brained
but human sense
has the consistency
of overripe fruit.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

We Will Rest Not, George Floyd

Brazen with whiteness
four toads
exerted presence
cuffed and killed a man

“I can’t breathe.”

On the front lawn
of America
stripped of empathy
the leader knelt

Not in prayer –
reverence burns his lips –
he knelt with authority
or his version, venomous

Three looked on
ignored pleas
gloated in the horror
of life’s final gasp

Humanity’s blood
now cold
unleashing a scream
a primal, reptilian rage

The offspring
of oppression
and hate
uncoiling

Like snakes
nest disturbed
rising against injustice
burning down the walls

As The Man weaves
his tale of dissonance
casting lines of division
few listen..

Black Lives Matter
drowns the rhetoric
the breakthrough is complete
we can no longer look away.

(For George Floyd and all the others murdered senselessly at the hands of those commissioned to protect.  Submitted to Reena’s Exploration challenge: breakthrough.  Image my own.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

The River

Reposting this for my weekly challenge with the theme of river.

One Woman's Quest

There’s a river runs between us,
you and I; our thoughts, like tears,
are liquid carried by the current.

But you, and I,
we stand on the banks, oblivious,
ignoring the connection,
proudly touting our individualism.

Still the river flows
and all you’ve suffered
and all I’ve suffered
or dreamed, or imagined, or hoped
flows with it.

Step into the water with me,
feel our connection;
do not be afraid
for it is sacred –

wade deeper and know
you are not alone
for I am here
in this river
that runs between us.

(Originally posted in October, 2014. Edited here.)

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These are Warriors

Younger women than I
are giving birth, unaware
of indifference; joyous
expectancy blotting out
smells of disinfectant,
and decay – I am invisible
to them, my daughters.

Babies they are, bringing
forth life, unripened souls,
hopeful, ignorant, unaware
that I know what violations
have planted the seeds, am
no stranger to the cruelties
of humanity, my sisters.

I may be unknown here,
but neglect is universal –
it’s brutality unremarkable –
am praying for miracles,
while the world spins, lives
losing control, and all I can
do is stand witness, Mother.

(Photo credit:  Huffington Post)