Thursday, March 9, 2017

As new

Hard and fast the rain that fell
o’er this land of toil and strife
as if to wash the evil out
again, again, again,
but strange it is no washing can
ere leave the product good as new.

The sun came out as if to be
the saviour of all humankind
but all it did was imbed more
the stain of evil known to be
a repeat of history.

And then the wind; oh, yes, it blew
new hope for all inhabitants
but did they stand and face the force
or run and hide from their renewal?

It’s the residue of those who ran
that stays to stain the years to come
and we, the product, humankind
will not again be good as new
unless, unless, the numbers grow
of those who know to stand and be
renewed, refreshed till good as new!

Thursday, February 9, 2017

Last time?

She looked at her wagon decrepit and old;
can it make one trip down yonder road
with a load much lighter than ever before
and a soul that knows it will soon have to die?

The wagon was silent; it had spoken before
of one last, one last, and another last one
and now closed eyes to think (maybe pray)
could it be, could it be, the final last one.

It looked at the pasture beyond its foresight
and thought maybe, yes, it could live out its days
relaxing, reclining, and remembering
all the trips back and forth and round about.

Maybe, just maybe, time is its friend
to allow four wheels to sink into the sand
and bring in peace previously denied
the one that travelled through experiences.

Suspicious of time; friend or foe do you think
but wagons and gypsies know time is just time
so easily susceptible to a change of mind
on its relentless march to demise - 
if there such a thing be.