Only They Can
If only I could
Reassure them that
They will be okay,
That they don’t have to
Be scared of everything,
That no one is going to
Come and hurt them,
But I can’t,
Only they can
Deliver that message.
Health Insurance Policy
Every time I see how
Little is covered on my
Health insurance policy
For such a preposterous
Amount of money,
I’m reminded of how
Much better everything
Would be if I could
Bypass these corporate leeches,
Go to any doctor, get
Any procedure done, and
Just have it billed to
Medicaid or some other
Program funded by me and my
Fellow citizens because
We all care for each other and
Believe in the common good
Rather than ordinary greed.
Discarded
It was never going to
Go her way.
An abrupt,
Blunt realization.
It seemed so simple:
Feel for someone else.
No empathy forthcoming,
Just coldness.
Discarded when no longer
Feeding the pathology.
Rejected, unneeded,
Wondrous opportunities appear.
Once a Year
Once a year
They take off
Their blinders and
Gather some gifts
For the needy.
Once a year
They do something
To atone for their
Customary thoughts
And deeds.
Once a year
They pretend they
Are someone else,
A person who
Really cares.
Displeasure
Everything this day
Seems to be of outsized
Importance, immense
Consequence, no filter
In place, just raw,
Unadulterated displeasure.
Roiling
She comes home
From school sobbing
And tells us that
Someone called her
A horrible name and
Everyone laughed
And pointed at her.
We hold her and
Comfort her as
Much as we can,
Memories of the
Same scenario
Roiling in our minds.
Personal Experience
He comes from
Generational pain,
The kind that anchors
People to self-perceived
Stations, preventing
Forward movement,
Repeating the patterns
That keep them there.
He says he doesn’t
Have the answers
To fix all the problems
But he knows something
Needs to be done to
Alleviate the suffering,
But one gets the impression
He really doesn’t understand
Why the horrors persist and
Where change really comes from,
Personal experience being
At times a poor substitute
For genuine insight, compassion.
Nongrowing
A stark verification of your place
In the order of things,
Crushing realization that
Things are as you thought they were,
Even though you hoped they weren’t.
They go about their business
Without any insight into
Who they are or why they
Behave the way they do,
Unfeeling, nongrowing, unchanging.
Real Folks
In order to hide
Who they really are
Deep inside, when
Outsiders aren’t around
To listen, everyone
Huddled around sharing
Hearty chuckles about
Some city-slicker or
Other person who
Is not like them,
They perpetuate stale
Myths about how they’re
The salt of the earth,
Misunderstood real folks,
Telling it how it is,
A worn ruse used to shift
The attention away from
What’s really going on.
In a city far away,
Countless mothers and fathers
Care for their children
And hope for love and
Warmth for all human beings
Wherever they may be.