Only Choice
Limiting
Their
Opportunities
So
The
Only
Choice
They
Have
Is
Going
To
War.
The Gift
I remember the day I came to you with
Gift in hand, but it wasn’t good enough,
Didn’t compliment what you already found
Familiar. I remember the look on your face
When I had the temerity to suggest that
The gift was something quite valuable and
Precious. No acts of naive courtesy permitted,
No souvenir from unvisited lands featuring
Swaying palm trees and beaming bathers.
I remember how you turned away.
Unable to Express
On his deathbed,
He croaks out something
That sounds like,
“I love you,” to his
Daughter, having been
Unable to express it at
Any other time,
A sadly hollow gesture
That would have
Meant much more if
He had had the courage
To say it along the way.
The Group
Letting people starve
Because they weren’t
At the right place
At the right time,
Or didn’t have the
Same opportunities,
A helping hand when
It was really needed
(But that is too often
Downplayed under the
Guise of self-reliance)
Or someone to offer them
A job or pave the way
For success in some form,
Or because they didn’t
Look or sound a certain way,
Or weren’t accepted as
Part of the group.
Unworthy
Glorified dualist vision,
Good versus evil,
Us against them,
Our people distinguished
By excellence and virtue,
Theirs huddle in
Laziness, barbarism.
Manichean perspective,
Forced tension between opposites,
Only one true good.
Disparage, separate, deprecate,
Dismiss with animosity.
Unworthy of consideration,
Cast aside unceremoniously.
Moves On
Everyone watched with
Consternation as he
Unraveled before them,
Spewing forth the saddest
Kind of misinformed
Presupposition possible,
Dogmatism drawn from a
Tainted source, profound
Fissures created long ago,
Bubbling under the surface,
Ready to erupt at any moment,
One such as this.
Moments later he moves on
As if nothing happened.
Open
Open your mind, open your heart.
Open the door to places uncontemplated.
Shed assumptions about a
World of fear. Thrive, flourish,
Nourished by courage and hope.
Cling to future rather than past.
Heal ingrained, untended wounds.
Move forward into the light.
Unspoken Code
An unspoken code
Keeps them all
In line, sporting
The same clothes —
Physical appearance —
Mores —
Social rules
That keep them
Stuck in a delusion
Of normalcy based
On fearful assumptions
About almost everything.
Misunderstanding
For years and years I thought
I was a certain type of person and
It all came tumbling down one
Normal afternoon when I was
Struggling to do what I thought
I was supposed to do, fighting
Against the current instead of
Enjoying a carefree ride on a
Placid stream on a beautiful day.
All this time hoping I could will
My way into being someone else, a
Different person in the mirror
Bearing not even the most fleeting
Resemblance to me, a passing
Stranger, unsubstantial presence,
Easily scattered with a single gesture,
Moved by fragile strings of ego, fear,
A misunderstanding halted.
Carefully Cultivated
A mob of privileged
Brutes gleefully singing
About never letting
Some (expletive) into
Their clique.
Not an isolated incident,
Yet another typical
Example of the seething
Contempt one group has
For another.
These things don’t appear
Out of nowhere,
Carefully cultivated,
Encouraged by
Role models.
Upstanding citizens in
Places of power
Perpetuating hatred
And division without
The slightest remorse.