MAYBE
It has occurred to me
That
I may not live long enough
To love my neighbor
Indeed
We may all perish if we don’t learn (quickly)
To love one another
And maybe this is the deficiency – like the dinosaurs
That will bring about our extinction
HOW DARE WE
How dare we believe that the ALL in
Liberty & Justice for… includes us
How dare we believe our marching
Will bring about change.
How dare we stomp on the weak
Promise of equality.
How dare we want the privilege to
Walk.
Talk.
Drive.
Be in any space. Any place
How dare we reach into the tall
Grass of corruption to
Throttle the snake of injustice
How dare we show the audacity
Of hope
How dare we?
How dare we not?
GDF ©9/2020
DEAR WHITE PEOPLE
I don’t want your liberal guilt
Your shocked alarm at blood long spilt
I truly don’t want your dismay
To matter more than a racist display
What I want when you’re alone
Standing among those blood and bone
Not a defense of my right to BE
But a defense of my right to take a knee
Scour your own heart of stereotype
It sieves through all the “tolerant” hype
I know when you think I’m not enough
When my vocabulary tends to call your bluff
I will know when the racist BS ends
When in absence I am just your “friend”
You’ll understand my anger at a human race
Those who won’t rise above limited base
And you’ll feel easy in the skin you own
Knowing we are ALL simply blood and bone
All working toward a peace un-shattered
Where there is no offense that our lives matter
G. Davis-Feldman ©2019
THE LIFE LIMITED
Not the express train –
The uneventful
Quick-trip to decay
We’re on the Limited;
Confined within limits
On life’s platform
Night watching
Brief recognition vanishing outlines
Illuminated windows, They stare ahead
Silhouetted profiles against flashing light
Glimpsing the gold coins of
The Paradise Express
We remain for the day
As we see ourselves
Age and wisdom
In separate cars
On that same track
Tearing through
A landscape of
Scattered grace
THE PERILS OF BEING THE BEST
I’ve been running for my dream
That started well before
The public even knew
There was someone to adore
I was swimming for my dream
Well before I was born
Who knew the heights that I would reach
The laurels my head adorn
I’ve been throwing at my dream
As you watched and tisked disdain
“She’s so big and unbecoming”
As if my goals were your domain
I’ve been fencing with my dreams
Assault by angulation
Beautiful balestra in hijab
Avoiding fearful imagination
I’ve been balancing all my dreams
On rings and bars and mats
Long before you got off your couch
To write uncharitable scat
Don’t shower me with bloodless praise
“I’m the greatest in the land”
And in ultimate compliment say,
I “compete just like a man.”
Flunking Retire -ment
I have flunked that good, after life
Leaving desk, chalk, and youth sublime
Eight years and a clarion light
Continues to call me to dine
~
With character filled texts and chairs
I return to a chalkless life
Anxious, faded elegance dares
To drag my dreams to “that good night”
~
Dreams die hard desire remains
I answer the call to return
Restoring dream’s dust to grain
Desires continue to burn
~
Teaching is now a brand new flight
Where time and love is now outsourced
Knowledge now comes in bits and bytes
Pass, fail with a little remorse
~
Virtual reality reigns
As 21st Century fun
As if being “real” needs explain
Over needs for real wisdom
~
So I am back to spread my grains
Of wisdom and where I found
Meanings to life ‘long side the brain
Which the “Road less traveled” is bound
SPRING – Vol. II
Comes in on muddy skids
Ignoring the calendar
Shaving its low gray brow
Undercover of a high cloudy sky
Wet with anticipation
It comes in when you see & hear
The great white flock
Of tundra swans
Trailed by a few dark geese all
Bellowing goodbyes
From overhead
It comes
The day you’ve had enough of
Of ice and frozen bones
The day you refuse to acquiesce
To your bed until the sun breaks the spell
Shaking off the coldest month
In the history of keeping warm
It comes
The day you throw
Off winter covers & sing songs
Warm enough to overtake
The sorrow that is homemade
And unnecessary
The Beloved Monster
Walking against the wind
Off the lake slows my pace
I consider the remnants of
The coldest February on record
The receding snow
Pulling back from last night’s rain
Leaving molded columns of
Autumn’s leaves
Along the road
Heaped dirty and waiting huge
Ice & snow mounds long since
Spent of fun and wonder that
Came new last December
March is here with its uneven
Message: promises of what might be
The patches of green
Slicing white winter
Mocking romantic winter havens
Warmth upended with
The old wooden mailbox
After the passing of
The beloved monster
Patron saint of the winter road:
The snowplow
KITE SEASON
Happiness builds a fast fire
Underfoot the running child
In fields wild with flowers
Laughing, some unknown joy,
That life will be good
Happiness forces arms open
New experience
Embracing daring
Nothing but youth
Before receding to the corners
Beaten back by the collected ticks
A clock and a heart weary
Holding happiness at bay
Then comes
The thumping hush
That muscle upon which
Nothing is lost
Rolling and dipping
Tethered calmly against
Winds of age & change:
Happiness,
Flying its own kite
Gwen's World 