Lost

In a world of lost peace

and a lost hope ensuing,

the one thing we must not lose

is ourselves, nor each other.

Protest Song

At ten, or maybe twelve, sometime around then,

we discovered that the world was not coming to an end

as perhaps we expected, despite the cold war with Russia

with one finger on “the button” to annihilate us many times over,

even as our own finger was on “the button” on this side,

many times over, annihilation by mushroom cloud;

and despite the “drills” to protect ourselves from “the bomb,”

little human balls crouched and tucked under our desks,

or body to body in rows and columns in the hallways, our hands

clasped over our little heads, or maybe a bomb shelter in the backyard,

whatever good it would do; and despite the hot war brought

into our living rooms, black and white images of destruction and death,

weapons rattling and bombs raining down, and bodies, our bodies,

carried on stretchers to waiting choppers, despite the growing

list of casualties, POWs, MIAs, grieving families, young men awaiting

the draft, their number to come up, looking for deferments, a way out,

making plans to go to Canada, anywhere, remembering friends

returned in flag draped caskets or missing limbs, more than limbs,

these living dead bearing the scars and nightmares of time spent

in Southeast Asia’s hell, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, young people

returning with their demons, awaiting retribution, salvation,

and the peace that comes with death, penance paid; and despite

the revolution, the demonstrations against “the man,” the war,

injustice, our civil rights taken, individual freedoms withheld, beaten

and jailed, singing our protests songs, still sung, still blowing in the wind,

the flowers still gone; “oh say, can you see,” when we couldn’t see, can’t see,

not clearly, even now, wondering still if the promises of peace and community,

harmony and understanding, one humanity, are ever going to be fulfilled,

equality, justice, freedom, democracy; and today, grown older,

not too old to forget being ten or twelve, every age since, and still

not seeing an end nor even a new beginning, a new world coming,

a new voice, a new morning, clear and sweet and free, coming in peace:

where have all the flowers gone? long time passing? long time ago?

Gone, now, perhaps the way of childhood, innocence taken, innocence lost;

and still the question, when will we ever learn? When will we ever learn!

One!

We are the children of this world;

even we agéd still so much younger

than planet earth itself, children still,

still growing, still learning, still evolving

into what humanity has yet to become,

one!, one people, a dream achieved.

Flowers in my Garden (2025)

Flowers in my Garden

(Daffodils – Tiger Lilies – Wildflowers)

 

                          The Daffodils

In my garden, a morning bathed in early sunlight,

the daffodils announce themselves, loud with trumpets

of golden yellow, resplendent, and heard

only in the silence of their arrival.

 

                          Tiger Lilies 

Early spring, nighttime, the Tiger Lilies

prowl around my garden, settling down,

and in the morning, green stalks and leaves

sprout up where they lay themselves to rest,

awaiting summer, and, grown tall, ready

for their orange coats to blossom and bloom.

 

                          Wildflowers 

And in my wildflower garden, the flowers

are wild, a potpourri of unknown seeds

tossed willy-nilly into newly turned soil,

perennials needing little care, returning again,

or perhaps new plants blown in on a summer breeze

from somewhere, enjoying that freedom to be

just a wild flower, wild and free and in my garden. 

Young Love

Young love, newly found, is love

at its best, that gushy feeling

of butterflies aflutter deep

within the heart of youth,

a feeling felt at a voice heard,

your name spoken softly, a hand

held, a hug given, a hug received,

a hero conquering the world;

perhaps it’s a feeling, newly found,

felt many times, again and again,

pure, untouched, perfect love,

innocent, hearts aflutter.