proud of standing up,
getting around to it,
getting on with it.
If a tangle ensues, cutting through.
If a tumble arises, rolling with.
If crisis then double
and address the matter at hand
with a letter to the editor.
Explain the nature of how this ends.
How it makes sense at least within
the circle of its sense
where if in crisis
all meaning moves
more than a little left.
Leave a comment | tags: poems, poetry | posted in poetry
You were there, seated on the low wall,
breathing hard after running. Recovering.
I was there too, though we did not speak.
Both of us had just finished running from
what had chased us. Were we done or just
taking a moment? We never spoke. Our eyes
never met. If we had taken a moment there
we might have learned something, gained
a little time, made a plan to fight back. Might
have stopped, been able to settle, been able
to put down actual roots. Instead we were
caught up in recovery, preparing for
more running and more attempts to escape
and live. This is how it works, how it was
always designed to work. This is how we’ve come
to call this living. It never lets up and
we never learn how many of us there are
running away from the same thing.
Leave a comment | tags: poems, poetry, political poems | posted in poetry