We all think we would
Have been the good guys in that story,
That we would have refused fascism’s demands,
We think we would have had the foresight,
The readiness to do the unpopular,
Until it happens on one’s own soil,
And then one is left in one of a few camps,
Those that acquiesce,
Those that refuse,
And those that just don’t know what to do,
What to do when humans are contained like cattle
With the label illegal,
What to do when realities of an angry mother Earth means this was no fault of their own,
What to do when being a good citizen conflicts with being a good person,
What to do when the question “what do I do?” is real
and not a hypothetical “what would I do?”
But rather ”what will I do?”
Tag: poem
Piece of a Mystery
A piece of left trash
Opens a mystery, for
Young minds to explore
Tears of Privilege and Oppression
I am sometimes stunned
By the blind privilege
Of the most well meaning,
I will cry for you that you have been wronged,
But I will not do myself and others literal harm,
To make your unease go away,
I will not do so simply because you weep,
For here I am weeping because of your attack,
You are privileged from where you cry,
But you expect me give away more,
Because you speak,
Your platform is your privilege,
Your class, your skin, your gender, your orientation,
And you say this is your first time
Feeling oppressed,
As you maintain your right to do the very thing,
Of which you do complain.
Bodies
And so comes the heat,
And out come the bodies,
To bronze and burn under golden rays
Another Light: Prayer for the Wolf
I had never seen a wolf before,
At least not from behind a pane,
Until yesterday,
And in a fraction of a moment,
I saw it,
I saw you,
Wounded wolf,
with eye pendent
And you should not have moved,
But you did,
and the life in you
is what disturbed,
And I prayed for you,
For your pain to be ended,
For the bullet to come fast,
For you to find peace
in your next plane,
You are my sibling,
I saw it in you,
In your gaze
In your sentience,
Wolf, I cannot imagine your pain,
But I can imagine your life,
And I prayed you lived this one well,
May you find another light,
In another life
The Way Opens Up
Without beckoning
Sometimes the way opens up,
The security you did not know you needed
Is gifted,
And suddenly burdens that pressed
Are slighter,
For something, somewhere, somehow
is looking out
for you
She of Letters 