Hey! Snowflake

You’re called snowflake

as if you are weak,

blown about by the winds

melting away quickly.

Yet, they do not know

that each snowflake is unique

a one of a kind

crystalline form,

a complex geometric pattern

that floats on the wind

to be caught on eager tongues

of children laughing.

Shaped by nature’s hand,

when combined 

a force that closes cities

stop trains, 

forcing us to slow down,

to remember 

we to are unique

one of a kind,

complex geometric patterns

that will one day

melt away

leaving only the green

planted so long ago.

Reflection on the News

It comes as no surprise

to see how we react

to the news that shocks

us to the core.

It’s easy to blame the past,

hindsight is 20/20

and of course,

we would have done it better.

It would be nice if people

were so easy and predictable

not creatures of habit

seeking what’s best for them.

Yet, that’s not the way,

hasn’t been since that fatal bite

in a garden lost to memory.

I Woke this Morning

I woke up this morning to a new America

a place that I never knew existed

a place full of anger and fear,

people marching in the streets

people being beaten for who they are

the cries of the innocent seeking justice

faces contorted in anger, fingers pointing.

My own heart feels heavy

I cannot fathom how we got here,

how these people all free in America

could become so mean to one another

in this place where I can speak freely

worship the God of love in peace.

Yet we watch as the gods of greed and power

of fear and wealth crucify once more

the one who came offering the kingdom

to the poor, the neglected, to us all

Thoughts on Inauguration Day

I’m not sure how I feel

I never felt afraid,

I never felt deprived,

I have love in my life,

I have a home,

I have food,

I have freedom to worship,

I have freedom not to do so,

I can drive cross country.

Yet I’m told it’s a lie

that all is not well

there are forces underneath

seeking to take it away.

Now we’ve taken it back

and all will be put right,

so I’m told

and still I feel no fear

and still I have love

and still I’m not deprived

and still I’m free.

At least for now

Just Thinking

Sitting here just thinking

nothing overly productive

but just thinking

about our times

about how we have forgotten

how to have real dialogue

how to speak to one another

without all of the finger pointing

and the angry rhetoric.

I wonder what happened 

to civil discourse

have we become so immune

to one another

only able to blame

rather than reach out?

So, I write a poem

trying to understand

what is going on

not in the world but in my heart

so I sit here thinking

about nothing overly productive

hoping to make sense

of a senseless world.

My Talk with Presidents

Last night I had this dream

I was sitting in a room talking

with John Adams and Thomas Jefferson

our second and third Presidents

about what they did when they served.

Both were old men and like old men

they reminisced about the good old days

they still had differences but were genial

unlike what we see today.

In this dream I told President Adams

that I admired his courage

for standing firm against forces

that sought to drive the young nation

into war that could not be won

much less afforded given our condition.

Of course Jefferson, wasn’t so kind

for him the revolution was yet complete.

Yet, for all of their differences

politically and socially, they talked

about the issues, logically, calmly.

Maybe that’s what I miss today

reason over insanity, true dialogue

over shouted words and accusations.

Of course, this was only a dream

a fantasy that crept into my sleeping head

and like most dreams vanished with the light

and then I turned on the TV 

watching a nightmare come true

and wanting to go back to sleep.

Reflecting on the Political Season

The times are a mess,

we seem to be stuck,

in a thick muddiness.

It grips at our very being,

our hearts hurt every day.

The big blue ball spins,

hurtling us through space,

yet, hope is falling away.

The voices are loud, 

just loud, no truth,

volume is the key,

facts need not apply,

the homeless person shudders,

the young black man wonders,

a small child prays.

The spinning vortex, 

drags us into oblivion,

no Oz, no Emerald City,

these Munchkins devour.

The threshold beckons,

the temptation to restore,

that which was lost,

in the whips and chains.

This voyage is not easy,

our sails are set.

Steering into the light,

instead of into the dark.

The sea is stormy,

and Leviathan breaches above,

yet, we sail ever forward,

knowing that light and life,

lay out in that storm.

Grace and love, 

the land of hope and dreams,

Not the land of despair,

is what we seek.