She looks out over the fields of wheat.
Sipping her coffee, the steam rising
Outlines the shape her husband makes
As he prepares the crop-duster in the predawn.
She savors these moments before the
Onrush of the day and the children-frenetic
Energy of both fourth graders she teaches
And the sweet “no-neck monsters” who are her brood.
Five generations have struggled on this land.
He braces himself against the cold to come.
Shifting from foot to foot he blows into his hands
As he thinks he didn’t always live under tarp and cardboard.
God, something better than Cheetos would be nice for dinner.
There is nothing to ward off the loneliness tonight…
No drink to warm his throat and belly,
No friendly drug to chase away the demons,
And no one to snuggle against except
The author of the book he borrowed from the library.
She wears her sari in the traditional way for Muslim women.
Sometimes she wears a hijab, but will not cover her face.
In this country she is free to express herself.
Ten years of specialized schooling,
Many years building her practice, and a lifetime of
Struggle against kind and unkind oppression
Allows her to move gracefully and purposefully
From one examination room to another
In the dental offices staffed with her employees.
He marvels at the mysteries of the universe.
Ever since he learned about the double-slit experiment
He has been on a quest to understand the nature of reality.
The fact that observing the experiment can
Change the behavior of the photons caused his
Catholic bones to break like brittle China.
His old god of big rules and tiny explanations
Dissolved into irrelevance, as did all religions
That do not recognize the imperative of quarks.
She is bound to a chair/couch with tubes
Connecting from her body to the dialysis machine.
Kidneys have taken a siesta for a while.
Maybe they’ll come back.
They might bring large bowls of guacamole with them.
None of this is easy without a car.
If it were not for the people who love her at church…
If it were not for the ACA she would be dead.
If it were not for Medicare she would be dead.
His grandfather was a Tuskegee Airman who
Was killed in the skies over Vietnam.
His grandmother was bitter because she did not
Understand why he fought for people who
Would refuse him a seat at a lunch counter.
Now, he also serves his country as a fighter pilot
Because the allure of military flight is in his blood.
He was called to arms for his country as a
Sacred duty and a bond to all who came before him.
When you have your Civil War, who will you be uncivil too?
Whose property will you confiscate?
What territory will you liberate?
How will you identify the people deserving murder…
Who to rehabilitate and indoctrinate…
Who to purge in the name of your great cause?
What demigod exploits your wrath?
Who makes you feel specially blessed and righteous?
Have we not seen your banners before,
Or are they shiny white, new, and extra pointy to
Glisten in the sun?
About this blog.
This blog is a place where many of the confluences of my life can be shared. I am, at the core, a creative person. I approach everything from that basis... whether composing symphonies, playing the cello, being a serial entrepreneur, writing sermons and essays, flying airplanes, or creating software apps. I am deeply passionate about creativity, issues of social justice, and spiritual enrichment. These are fundamental to everything I do. Welcome to my journey!