Feet Raised

The path I walk
my footsteps now are soft
when once they’d stomp
wanting all to here me come
they now step gently
Quietly

They used to run
the legs were strong
in naked feet
unnerved by jagged stones

Faster and faster
they’d run past
much of what now
I wish I’d stopped to see

Slowly they now stroll
callused, some broken toes
carrying weight
that once was light like snow

They used to play and jump
sharing life’s playground
with friends and sibling’s feet
now on this path
they walk alone

When once these feet
sped for miles
now only walk short trails
then rest with bottoms
raised so the pain might wane
sitting, sadly only watching now,
my lifelong bane

To be or Not, to be

Begin this beginning wondering
are the souls hovering o’er their incarnate shells
lying in the streets of Bahrain
in the dessert of Libya
or sidewalks of Iran
make the cause worth the loss

As I watch from the comfort of my home
seeing of how the strong arm of autocracy
is squelched by the gathering of voices
of those oppressed

The strength of this revolution
comes from the strife and scars
of faces gathered who’ve made a choice
to fight with life for human dignity
so that their children will live
in self rule and liberty

We see the violence and lives lost
People in these countries fighting for a cause
Dictators suppressing the fight
through sectarian genocide

In my own back yard I feel a strife,
a strain upon my person.
My face is brown, my hair is black
when I now walk outside my door
I concern myself, always looking back

I’ve lived a citizen of this country
now for many years
placing my life in jeopardy in 1969
still I must walk amidst the question,
because my hair is black, my face brown
‘where are my papers?’, I’m now, forever bound

The oligarchic elite wish to keep the power
They hoard the money and jobs
Pass legislation maintaining privileges
for those whose face is white, the right

Right wing politicians legislate perfidy
Surreptitious and insidiously
they suppress today’s undesirable ethnicity
Their identity is masked as liberators
stealing the name from America’s history
‘ Tea Party’, of those that truly were

Unlike history, though, they believe in segregation,
excluding some religions, ideologies, race,
because of this there will always be interrogation
for those that look like me and you

A Smile in Space

Why do glee filled eyes and joyful smiles last so short a time?

Why do moments of this kind come so infrequent?

Sometimes those times of momentary joy come silently
They appear in quiet spaces in the oddest places
When no one is looking and it’s cloudy
the sun is slightly piercing the cumulus
touching with shadows cast on a single soul
she sits alone on a bench underneath
and amidst a conifer, maple and oak

A salient solemnity arises, encircles
papa and mama, octogenarians, sitting together
quietly with arms entwined into one another’s
staring into space, a space known only to them
She gently bends her neck resting her head on his shoulder
A sense of exasperation abounds the two of them
yet with a soft and gentle gasp of fulfillment
to their lifelong shared moments in time

A child sits next to mom on a thick patch of green grass
interspersed with golden strands and daisy caps
blowing gently in the breeze as
she turns to look at me with those large hazel blues
with a curious smile that only pure innocence could demand

If only this smile could pierce the gray of day
and cascade with shards of sunshine rays
upon those who sit alone
in the dark and cold
casting shadows of lonely souls