We Are Pilgrims

We Are Pilgrims

We are all pilgrims praying
praying for normalcy to return
return to life with hopefulness
hopefulness mixed with security
security that when we sleep
sleep with faith in tomorrow
tomorrow an even brighter day
day filled with love and joy
joy an emotion we yearn for
for we are all pilgrims praying.

So often Sumana's poetry inspires me...if only in a tangential way.
Posting this for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Where is Sanctuary?

Where is sanctuary when
safety is but a remembered dream
where life was more predictable
moving in a logical way
and governing was by congress
not tweets.

Where is sanctuary when
life no longer flows predictably
and every day brings more to fear
and one never knows the next group
to be blamed or banned or chastised
by tweet.

Where is sanctuary when
human rights are trampled
legality is twisted
lies are the norm
and disloyalty is punished
by tweet.

Where is sanctuary when
there is new insanity each day
when chaos runs rampant
when one fears for tomorrow
the future so very bleak
with tweets.

This is written for Sumana's prompt for Midweek Motif - Finding Sanctuary.

Catch My Breath

Catch My Breath

I try to catch my breath
breathe in breathe out
each day it is harder

so I turn off television
pick up a book
don't look at twitter

the train moves on
is it possible that
evil will win

I make my calls
put down the phone
enough for today

how is it possible
for change to come
so quickly I ask

who is the white knight
where is god in this
who's in charge here

I fear for grandchildren
more than for me
can we resist

each day it is harder
breathe in breathe out
I try to catch my breath.

This is written for Poets United Poetry Pantry.
If you have not read Sherry's feature on my poetry, please
do give the feature a read:  Blog of the Week:  Mary's Thoughts in Troubled Times.
and if you make a comment be sure to check back as I will respond to you
there as well. 

Not Time Yet

Not Time Yet

I watched him shuffle the track
at the YMCA, slow, stooped
looking down, holding the rail,
and I said to myself Parkinson's,

and when he left the track
he brought coffee to his wife
who was sitting at a table
near the table I sit at now

with my laptop, and I see them
sit silently, read an old newspaper,
no glimmer of smile, and I know
their journey like the back of my hand,

but I will not speak to them,
will not interrupt, will not tell them
I noticed, as perhaps the man thinks
it is not obvious, but it is, and this

is the beginning or perhaps the middle,
and I watch him stand now, slowly,
with difficulty he rises from the chair,
to throw his Styrofoam cup away,

then follow his wife somewhere, and
I imagine he was one who once led,
one who arose quickly, set the pace
before the awful disease claimed

his body, dignity, grace, rendered
him invisible to many, ignored when
he began to speak, his voice softer now,
couldn't get anyone's attention, invisible,

weakened, a strong voice merely
an echo, see me, hear me, please,
his face a mask of former strength,
don't you know I was handsome once,

or does he still fool himself,
do they still fool themselves,
that this is as bad as it will get,
and would that be bad if they were,

but I won't tell them, not time yet,
as it is a difficult journey, individual,
that there is no way to beat
this dreaded life-stealing disease.

For Poets United - Midweek Motif - Masks

I wrote this poem six years ago, and it received few comments.
I don't think I can write a better "masks" poem than this one today.
Thus I am sharing it here. If any readers are familiar with symptoms 
of Parkinson's disease such as the Parkinson's
mask, they will understand this poem a bit better.

In Times of Hatred

In Times of Hatred 


I don't write poetry any more
my heart cries as I write pleas
my words flee in shame
I tremble in fear of tomorrow
as the beat of hatred goes on
with so many compliant
god help us all

but they say god is on his side
they bless him as they lay hands
these apocalyptic people
who consider calamities
signs of the end times
prophecies fulfilled
god help us all

what can change the tide
when evil becomes so powerful
manifests itself as destiny
the 'suffering servant' of Isaiah
fulfills predetermined plans
and they all shout amen
god help us all

I don't write poetry any more
my heart cries as I write pleas
my words flee in shame
I tremble in fear of tomorrow
my heart is so heavy
god help us all.

For Poets United Poetry Pantry.


Thank you, Sumana.  I used your title and the words 'my words flee in shame' from your poem In Times of Hatred.

If anyone wants to know some of what inspired me to write this,  read this article -- here.  Perhaps it will scare some of you as much as it does me.  

Oppressive Day

Oppressive Day

Oppressive day  
all is still
sun burns skin    
plants wilt
grass yellows
dog pants
life slows
we fan ourselves
as we dream
of the movement
of wind     and rain.

Written for Midweek Motif - where the prompt is 'movement.'

Do You Remember?

Do You Remember?

Do you remember

colors passing through me

don't get me started

words under the words

hidden inheritance

becoming light

steal away

upstream

this I believe --

Paris spring.

A poem written from book titles - just for fun - for Poets United Poetry Pantry

Independence

Independence

With a stiff upper lip I am strong
I am my own person
don't mess with me

I did not stand for the flag
in the Independence Day parade
I have my principles

World War II veterans passed by
and I clapped for them
they served for a good cause

Not one politician showed their face
not wanting to be booed in a parade
despicable cowards all of them

I dream of Canada and France
and Germany with good leaders
I cry for what my country has become.

I have lost pride in country
Independence Day a painful reminder
of all they strive to take away.

With a stiff upper lip I am strong
I am my own person
don't mess with me

     I will not back down.

Written for Susan's Midweek Motif - Independence.

I Must

I Must

I must find my way in these new times

not allow myself to be sucked into the abyss

of futility and helplessness 

I must find a way in these new times

protect myself from feeling hatred

for those who are most hateful

I must find a way in these new times

find joyful experiences in every day

not be stressed about uncertain future

I must find a way in these new times

I must find a way

I must.

For Poetry Pantry