The Children are Watching

 

The children are watching

And they will remember—

That is if this nation doesn’t fall apart first.

At least  they’ll be forewarned of the worst-

thanks to our screens the tyranny is being viewed in real time.

Sublime.

They are seeing the  irrational chases, handcuffs, disappearings,

The single mother being shot in the face for no reason

Except that it is once again the killing season.

Innocents of all colors and sizes being hunted—

Noobs to be pwned--

By grown gamer boys cosplaying as soldiers—

Never taught the difference between fantasy and reality. 

They must think this is the best game ever.

Whatever.

The children are watching

And they will remember. 

This is Our Country Now

  

This is our country now.

Put away the “I can’t believe it”, retire the “good ole days”.

Believe your eyes and your ears, for these are the only ways

To find the truth.

To hold the facts.

Step back.

Read the Diary of Anne Frank, read 1984, read Maus.

Dystopian fiction and past true horrors now live in our house.

I feel the generations of my military family, uniformed ancestors, quaking,

Fists tight, heads shaking.

Whatever they believed they were fighting for

This was not it.  

The vicious ICE cosplayers play at being soldiers—

Video games come to life for men who...what?

Want to act out fantasies?

Prove their grit?

Use bullets as catharsis for their pain?

I rack my brain

To figure out if this is all a blip of history,

Or if it is the logical next step for a country

Born from indigenous genocide and stolen lands.

The blood was always on our hands.

Maybe all of us have been costumed, cosplaying at democracy

Just as the ICE agents are cosplaying at being agents of justice.

I guess this is our country now. 

Whisper time

 Now is the whisper time.

The hiding time.

Stand behind me little one,

Wrap yourself in the folds of my jacket,

In the swirl of my skirt.

Cover your eyes so the sting

Of pepper spray doesn’t cloud your rainbows.

We used to teach 

That laws were for all

That rules were to follow.

We used to hum tunes

Of equality and democracy,

Of justice, empathy, sympathy

One nation.

Stand behind me little one.

Now is the time of unfairness.

Now we know that the path of time

Is a loop that history walks and walks again.

Stand behind me little one.

Hang on tight.

Now again it is time to fight.

A War

 A War

My messages ping
30, 40 times a day-
ICE agents spotted.

In store parking lots
outside schools, among tourists
riverside downtown.

Eyeballing, taking anyone brown.

Middle of the night
family sleep shattered as a
helicopter lands.

Kids don't understand
the zip ties around shaking hands,
their parents vanished.

the working folks who
spend money, pay bills, dream, hope -
painted as monsters.

Painted as monsters
while masked invaders point guns
in a war of their own creation.

Choice

 

The choice is easy.

 You are living your one life. 

...and while I leave the door of "maybe" wide open to the possibilities of reincarnation, 

for now, on this earth, in this nation,

all I know for sure is we have

One shot at the experimentation

of choosing kindness or "number one" blinders,

empathy or  antipathy

toward my fellow living creatures.

I've been a teacher too long not to offer you reminders

that choosing to only care for yourself

might gain you power and wealth

but at the price of dying alone,

in your palace or expensive care home.

So can you honestly say you'd choose this

before your soul drops below or soars above,

instead of ending your one life surrounded by love?

Be Ready

 

"Be ready my child" the queen bee said

"for the very sight of you will inspire great dread.

Your dark stripes and light will make them cower in fear

or else they'll try to destroy you so you can't get too near."

The little bee frowned. None of this seemed quite right.

"But all I want is the freedom to fly and alight

on flowers to gather nectar, golden and sweet,

and to carry it hiveward on my small clever feet..

Why should they run?  Why should they want to kill me?"

The queen bee shook her head in great sorrow

"That is the question, and it's not at all silly.

They think you're a danger, my child, my sweet.

They only see your stinger, not your clever small feet,

not your sunshine gold stripes, nor those midnight dark.

They fear you in their gardens, as you fly through the park.

All they believe is their fear, and fear makes them mad."

The little bee hung its head. "That makes me so sad.

Without bees  there's no flowers, 

no fruits, no sweet honey.

What is there but these?"  

The queen bee sighed,  "They want power and  money.

more than our sweet honey,

more than the flowers that bloom

to brighten their rooms,

more than fruit, more than life,

more than sky, more than earth."

The little bee wept a small tear,

"then what are we worth?"

Now is the time

 Now is the time to decide

the breadth and length,

the depth and strength of your heart,

your soul.

Are you a part of vast and imperfect humanity,

or is your love sequestered and sealed against all

except for those who have your approval?

Do you have the vision and strength to

step forward into the glowing discomfort of 

love for all,

or will you hide in the shadows of

your own isolated denial?

Now is the time to to decide

because the questions are being asked,

and you must reply.

In a world where we are all afraid,

look at he choices you make, have made

and tell me

what is the depth and strength of your heart,

your soul?