Cryptic

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.)

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Time To Cruise Is Not Now

Is there an itinerary for this lockdown?
I watch as engagements line up

Adventure-seekers, eager to connect
willingly engage, purchase a ticket

How I would give my life to be a part
hop aboard a sailing ship, escape

Except disability has recalled my passport;
I am a vehicle without fuel, grounded

Disappointment and I watch as
familiar faces venture out –

a friend’s brother
an old crush
a high school acquaintance

While envy reminds me
I’m always an outsider
Sensibility wakes me up

This boat I’m missing out on
is no luxury cruise ship, but
a dalliance with death –

I surrender to isolation
count the casualties.

( Image my own.)