Outside my window: blue sky, new green.
Promise and potential
A future of fecundity.
Inside my heart: fog, ice
You are gone
The planet is too joyful
for such a day.
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NaPoWriMo Day 26.
The prompt today was for a humorous parody, but as I received the news of the death of another dear person in my life this weekend, humour is not on my mind. 4 great losses in 10 months. What a wearisome year this has been.
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Ignore any ads following
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Outside the window
new green
We walk by in masks
waiting for vaccine
Spring is a time
for hope
Another year on a
slippery slope.
Daffodils bursting
from the soil
Politics and a pandemic
embroiled
Breathe.
Take care.
We’re almost
there.
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NaPoWriMo Day 22 A little contrast between the hope of spring and the stress of rising numbers of infected folks, including a friend.
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The dog stares mesmerized
past the old bulbs wrapped around the blue spruce, those steady, dependable glass bulbs that have illuminated twenty Christmases,
to the lilac bushes where the new micro-bulbs change from white to colour, fade, flash, flicker, urge us to celebrate with their “Party on!” dance,
but this year, putting them out
used all the energy we have,
and there’s no irony in the number of blue bulb strings wrapped and draped around the door.
Your pain bursts out the barrel of a gun
punches holes through community
explodes small town security.
Neutrality’s a liar.
And in world news:
Notre-Dame Cathedral is on fire.
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My own photo, detail around the main entrance of Notre-Dame. Paris, 2011.
My own photo. Notre-Dame tower details. Paris. 2010
A poem should stand on its own merits, but I feel like a bit of clarification this time. There was a shooting in my small, Canadian town yesterday. Two people were shot in their church; one died. Our community has been reeling from this shock, and now another tragedy. The loss of life. The loss of a building. Can you compare the two?
Here is the true thing, my children.
It is dark outside.
There are beasts with teeth and claws,
prepared to rip and tear you into tiny bits.
Oh, yes, my children,
it is dark outside.
You must beware.
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But come, my children,
here is another true thing.
There is light outside.
It glows from windows and from hearts;
it pulls what’s apart, together, wrapping gleaming strands
of hope, that shimmer if you look just so.
See?
There in your heart: a star!
Dare, my children, to shine.
It is dark outside.
You must
Be light.
Silent winter night
Snow falling peacefully ’til
the plough comes scraping.
The demons are hiding around corners
lurking in the shadows
watching you.
I know you feel the weight
of their gaze
hear the clink of their weapons
every day.
On the sunny days,
you outrun them
find smiles to return to those
around you
in their circles of care.
Other days,
smiles are barred growls,
the glow of sinister eyes pacing
around you,
squeezing life and hope
as their circle crushes in,
suffocating you.
Your demons on their unwitting backs
Your demons in their unwitting smiles
Your demons on their unwitting feet
Your demons in their expectations
Your incessant demons
invisible to others,
writhing,
circling,
just
there.
Lunar landscape
miles upon miles
of dust,
red rocks,
and sky
stretching wider than a sky has business stretching
then a surprise:
startlingly blue lake
reflects cloudless blue sky
and London Bridge.
How odd.
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Lake Havasu City, Arizona, is set beside the lake formed by Parker Dam on the Colorado River. The city is accessed via historic Route 66.
Shawn L. Bird 