poems about brokenness

Just Following Orders

Without flinching,
They authorize
Savage torment,
Projecting their fears
And desperate need for
Power and control onto
Their captive targets.
Not a moment’s reflection
Or second thought –
Subconscious reaction arising
From too many years of
Patriarchal indoctrination and
Forced obedience,
Profoundly ordinary –
Distressingly banal,
Merciless,
Just following orders.

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The Beach

Successive
Waves
Have all
Encountered
The same
Alarmed cries
About how
The beach
Will never
Be the same.

Luncheon

She sat at a shrouded table with
Semi-strangers jabbering giddily,
Animatedly ignoring or interrupting
Each other’s narratives.

The clatter of silverware on china,
A haze of perfume and nervousness
Wafting over occasionally. A nod of
Acknowledgment, smile of recognition.

When will this end? All rise for the
Hallowed oath, a group of like-minded,
Like-thinking, like robots, enjoying the
Luncheon of superficiality.

The Wrong People

Recoiling from the force of
His tirade, so many years
Of self-hatred generated
By the absence of love,
Sublimation of self,
An agonized lashing out
At the wrong people
Instead of the ones who
Really hurt him.

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.

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.

Angry All the Time

He’s angry all the time.
He’s been this way his
Entire life, as long as
He can remember. He says
It’s because he has passion,
Conviction, but it’s
Really about the other things
He’ll never talk about
To anyone and tries to
Pretend never happened.