Broken

                                                                           Broken
A trucker walks into a synagogue…

I
t sounds like the start of a joke, but it’s not.

Not a joke when this trucker is a crazed anti-Semitic
looking for somewhere to aim his misguided blame
Not when he perpetrates another of the countless massacres
that have become the wretched lore of America’s shame
Not a joke when any old trucker from Pennsylvania
can inexplicably have twenty-one guns registered in his name

It’s not the least bit funny when this same old story happens every other day.
It’s called the same old story, because the same old story is always the same.

It seems to happen
every other day
Lives change, in the blink of an eye
Lives changed, in the worst possible way
So many lives
The same old story
Every other day

Every other day
I can feel the devastation
Sickening me again, as a broken system cracks
Resonating again, as a broken person snaps
The devastation of every other day
The anger, the heartache, the vast impacts
The scourge of so many weapons, the same cold facts
So many lives,
changed in the worst way
Lost, in the devastation,
of every other day

181028134306-01-tree-of-life-synagogue-super-tease


A young couple decides to start a family…

It sounds like a very nice story, until it’s not.

A young mother pulls on her favourite boots,
excited about
a long-awaited night out with her friends
Drinks and dancing, and all the best intentions,
missing her daughter more with every text she sends
Her husband sends her a photo of their peaceful sleeping baby,
never imagining, that tonight, his wife’s life abhorrently ends

Yet another lost name on the long, sad, deplorable list of every other day.
Three more victims of a system that breaks far more often than it bends.

It seems to happen
every other day
Lives change, in the blink of an eye
Lives changed, in the worst possible way
So many lives
The same sad story
Every other day

Every other day
I can feel the desolation
Weakening me again, as a broken system fails
Resonating again, as a broken child wails
The desolation of every other day
The anguish, the heartbreak, the immense scale
The weight of so many coffins, so many final nails
So many lives stolen
So many broken
So many changed
Changed, in the worst way
The same sad news
The same sad reality
The same desolation,
every other day
untitled

 

Advertisements

Reverie

My eyes are closed, but I see…
Drifting along in my reverie…

Mindful ventures in an airy mist  Ocean2
Across the ocean of this dream
To places that never were
and places that might have been.

To a land west of the Emerald Isle
and south to Poseidon’s door
Sparkling depths of Celtic lore
Enchantment on a sandy floor.
Transparent waters window this world
Reflective light on a country now gone
Exposing dreams we greet the dawn
of the beautiful land that was Tir-fa Thonn.

Far from the tumultuous Pandemonium
the burning core of Milton’s hell
But needing its fire to ignite a swell
and sear this mystic sunken spell.
Casting a flame on our Garden of Mirth
Surfacing a real and imagined past
A land of castles and forests vast
Living each future’s day as legend’s last.

My eyes are closed, but I see…

Mindful ventures fill this lonely expanse
Across the waters of this dream
To places that never were
and places that might have been.

To a land of light and happinessOcean
A paradise with a multitude of names
Where joyous hearts hold joyous games
and many heroes staked their claims.
The Blessed Isles in the western sea
An Elysium just east of eternal bliss
Where roses abound and lovers kiss
A paradise St. Brendan claimed as his.

The souls of the past gather here
to renew Tara’s kinsfolk lore
on the plains of Magh Mel, forever more
A dreamer’s land, near heaven’s door.
Where pleasures open the gates to Eden
and horses prance, strong and proud
While people dance and sing aloud
and a lyre note touches a cloud.

My eyes are closed, but I see…
Free to roam within my reverie.

%d bloggers like this: