Expectations artificial
living in an urban jungle
longing for nature’s calm –
time moves too swiftly
barely register
let alone participate
We are guests in our own
expectation’s dysfunction
licensed for depression
a smorgasbord for abuse
intentions mislaid,
disappointment unavoidable
The ego pretends to be open
but she’s an actress off cue
playing out a sentence –
condemned to basics
praying to escape
this dystopian malfunction.
(Image my own)
Dove’s mournful cry
spotlights Nature’s calling –
Let us find a harmonic note
sing along for conservation,
for preservation, for a strong
tomorrow – find our voices
and join the chorus.
(Image my own)
We are not islands
isolated
insulated
to be ignored
We are hearts engaged
in a relational dance:
intertwining stories
weaving new tales
Yearning for love’s reciprocity
Delighting in wonder of discovery
Slugging through painful demise
Striving to be better
We build walls
construct towers
follow paths leading nowhere –
the pitfalls of our quest
Artificial barriers
lofty ideals
dead ends…
and still we push on
Dreaming of hands that hold
and gentle waters
soothing and war
passionate kisses
Love’s rewards
We exist
not for accumulation
but for the gifts that arise
when open hearts dance.
(Image my own)
Like living in the shadow
of a volcano, each complacency
shaken by treacherous rumbles
While some see equality
others chew on bitter lack,
and who profits when
tempers succumb to
the hot lava of anarchy?
(Image my own. Poem first appeared here 04/21)
Connections, like bridges,
run between us –
no matter how subtle –
nations and individuals;
there is no divide
Imagine if we acted
on this knowledge –
mindful and kind –
not subtle the outcome,
I should think.
(Image my own. Imagine Bridges first appeared here September 2019)
Ignore the dead
the ocean of grief
capsizing humanity
Keep bailing on reality
conspiracy lacks an oar
we drown without compassion
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Words have lost clarity
definitions slipping
societal fog
One cries freedom
while another gasps
for breath…
Is destiny a one-manned
sailboat navigating
ambiguous waters?
Or have we fallen,
poked the beast
of destruction?
(Image my own)
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.)
How did this chasm,
this canyon of lies
become our normal?
Facts, once the sword
of intellect, redundant –
we fight with hyperbole
Voices raised, egos puffed –
I long for calm, doubt
we have the wherewithal
to bridge the divide.
(Image my own)
Inwardly we glow…
so it’s said
I shudder
ignorance grating
like branches
on my windowpane
Hope is a fox
mesmerizes,
draws me out,
then disappears
If inwardly we glow…
then why am I so cold?
(Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 