Season

It’s just a season good or bad

that comes and then it goes

and caught in the cycle we obey

whatever rules are laid out.

But then mid-way or at the beginning

a mighty struggle ensues

and who once a leader becomes a loser

and the old gives way to the new.

We can blame the season or leader now loser

who once in the task of growing up

caused an event that sapped his strength

at a time when most it was needed.

He doesn’t bend his head in shame,

he doesn’t wring his hands in grief,

and certainly no tears can fall

when evil is his saving grace.

Yes, evil applauds dastardly acts

and the one who caused his downfall

because evil’s not fussy as long as it lives

and as long as the people suffer.

But evil forgets it is just a season

and soon the season will change

and over the land one word will rebound

and that word is, of course, …

“Freedom, freedom!”

Once ...

 

Once on a Sunday that lady believed

magic would manifest all of her dreams

and the sun shone on that day in between

the beginning and end of that Sunday that was.

 

She remembers well the heat of the day

and how blue the sky that captured her gaze

and as the leaves danced on each/every tree

she wondered what tune played only for them.

 

She listened because she too wished to dance

to celebrate fully her day of belief

but instead she sat still and breathed in the air

that surely held tunes she couldn’t yet hear.

 

And then the night fell; it kept falling, you know,

and blanketed out the sun, sky and trees.

to make her believe her day of belief

was plain and simply a dream.

 

But what held the dreams she certainly had

except that glorious day of belief

that weakened its grip and let them fly free

to perhaps manifest in some other time.

 

She waits and she waits and listens each day

for the music she couldn’t then hear

but she knows she will one Sunday in time

because days of belief don’t disappear.