Hoping something would change
After all these years,
But it doesn’t and
Likely never will,
The need to hide
Vulnerability
More powerful than
Any other thing,
A pervasive lie
Buttressed by people
Caught in its grip.
They get together and their
Collective brainpower
Devises an outmoded
Way of dealing with the
Matter at hand,
Favoring division,
Eliminating communication and
Any chance to fix anything,
An approach learned in places
Where people don’t know
How to talk about things.
People who don’t
Believe in
Helping people,
Put in charge of programs
That are supposed
To help people.
It’s more than difficult
To reconcile how he treated
Us most of the year,
Keeping us in fear of when
His latest rage would cruelly
Descend upon us, and who
Would bear the brunt,
Keeping a watchful eye,
Avoiding anything that might
Set him off, and the peculiar
Joy he took in festooning the
House with lights during
The holiday season.
So utterly soaked in
His belief system,
He is unable to see
Anything other than what
He’s been told to,
An adherent doing
What’s asked of him,
Not really liking it
But unable to change course,
Complete obedience the
Only approved choice,
Openness and curiosity
Not even on the menu,
He can barely even remember
What it was like to
Be himself, and change
No longer calls.
You win!
Stand there with
Your trophy while your
Shambles of a life
Lays at your feet and
You pretend that the
Reward is far greater
Than what you squandered,
Not that you’ll ever
Admit it, that would
Require some measure of
Courage, in short supply
In the land of swagger.
As a child, she had to
Fight for what was hers,
Struggle against the
Feeling that she was being
Judged or wasn’t good
Enough in some way, that
She wasn’t really loved
Or accepted, didn’t matter.
Not so many years later,
She became externally
Successful, with all the
Trimmings and trappings,
But inwardly vowed to
Never again let anyone
Tell her what to do, she’d
Strike first and show them
Who was boss, she’d be in
Control all the time, a
Sullen emperor staring down
From her tarnished throne,
Giving the signal to
Sacrifice yet another
Miserable underling to quench
Her thirst for dominance.
A blossom
Doesn’t care about
Anything other than
Being a flower.
Beautiful.
Someone comes
Along and deems it
Inadequate,
Frightening,
Unimportant,
Strangles it.
The plant lies
Dormant,
Anticipating
Another day.
There’s always that one
Individual who makes
Everyone else’s lives
Miserable, who has such a
Limited understanding of
Where he ends and others begin
That he tramples on all toes
In an unpleasant strut of
Unconscious self-centeredness,
Trapped in his own
Inflamed harshness.
