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Anvillan May 2020
It’s winter, but the lack of flowers
darken the day. Flowers are fresh
and new, and represent
all that is good in this world.
They give us hope, like new babies
crying out the message
that there is hope, I’m here!
How do we renew when
we are stalked daily?
How do we hope when
we are expected to decide between
truth and lies constantly?
How do we believe when
the icons we were presented
as children have morphed into
some bizarre character in an
off broadway play?
How do we function when media
says stay home but the next
channel says go out?
Am I centered, am I alone?
Is death just outside my front door?
I don’t know anymore. I’ve lost my
vision for tomorrow. Is it there?
I need help, if there is any...
Today’s uncertainty
Anvillan May 2020
Guilt of past deeds return
to rip my conscience
like a hyena tears at its prey.
I’m not sure I’m guilty,
they say I am.
Is guilt placed by others
mine to carry? Can guilt
be placed if no guilt is
deserved. Long ago an
innocent man was found guilty.
I’m doubly haunted, by the specter
of guilt and the ghost of doubt.
My escape is words on a page.
The reader will empathize because
He knows me through my words.
No guilt in my words, only a cry
for acceptance and peace.
To suffer or not to suffer...
Anvillan May 2020
The mask, my face, the oxygen flows
I breathe in a cadence,
like a drum keeping time.
If the drum stops will the breathing go on?
I am now tethered to this mechanical device
providing me life like a fetus in the womb.
Where did breath go, what took it from me?
It was the virus, this virus common to all in here.
This ward is full of victims on assisted breathing
struggling to breath, struggling to stay alive
like a fish, thrown on the bank yawns ,
hoping to take in water. When will he
go motionless. When will we go motionless?
I am resigned but I’m angry at the person
who infected me. He could have prevented this
suffering. He could have protected me from him.
He could have saved my family from tears,
from loss, from regret of good byes,
from the pain of having to watch. And those
who work this mission impossible,
have to go home and weep sadly for another
loss on their watch.
He feels no guilt, no remorse, oblivious
to the massive pain and suffering he
caused through neglect and simple listening.
Covid 29
Anvillan May 2020
The moon shouts
The great oak stands tall
The tides roll
Haiku
Anvillan May 2020
Nighttime, sliver of light
Inspiration in the void
Darkness nurtures me
Aloneness...
Anvillan May 2020
The moon shouts its way
The defiant oak stands tall
The tides rise and fall
Onshore poem
Anvillan Apr 2020
Life’s a mountain
the path is steep
the path is rough.
He is at he top, the
one for which life is
worth while. I stumble on
rocks, I bleed from thorns,
as did he for me. Yet my faith
is weak, my resolve is shaken.
I fall again, his hand is there,
he picks me up, lifts my
eyes to the prize. But I fall again,  
but my faith is weak, I tumble down
my gains all lost.life wins, once again.
I’ve and faith
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