There was a time not all that long ago,
he reminds me, when the event of an eclipse
was a certain sign the world was ending.
Prayers were offered in profusion, and
the event proceeded and passed, so faith
in prayer was restored, if not in astronomy.
Today eclipses are viewed as just other
celestial events, like meteor showers
and solar flares, something to see,
something to experience, but always
with the knowledge that tomorrow
will always be right around the corner.
But the eclipse of our freedoms
is something we have never seen,
and many now believe the world
is ending, but we should, he says,
realize that like the slow passage
of the earth across the face of the moon,
we will emerge into the light again
in due time, our prayers having been answered.
“Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.”-Shelley
because words must be said
words must be said
because they eat at my tongue
they eat at my tongue
because they recall the flames of the ovens
they recall the flames of the ovens
because they were forced to shower
they were forced to shower
because they were Jews
they were Jews
because they embraced Torah
they embraced Torah
because they walked through the desert
they walked through the desert
because they followed the trail of manna
they followed the trail of manna
because it led to freedom
it led to freedom
because I saw it in a dream
I saw it in a dream
because a voice whispered it to me
a voice whispered it to me
because I write
perches tree top
winter barren gray
and stares at stunted pines.
tucked under massive
for distant stars
rides a thermal coaster
waiting for squirrels.
Hills cry out
raging against dawn
tears flow puddling
of a distant god.
She wondered what it would be like
to be an island, set off somewhere
in a vast ocean, tropical preferably
where the only sounds were
the ebb and flow of the waves,
the thunder of the occasional storm
and the whisper of leaves tossed
by the omnipresent sea breezes.
she liked isolation, the silence
of repetitive sounds, free of the shackles
the city imposed on all within.
She imagined she might never tire
of the freedom and island enjoyed,
patiently waiting for the visitor
who might not ever wash up
on her beaches, she indifferent
but willing to accept what the gods
might choose to offer or deny her.
He took copious notes
until he knew
of the proper progression.
He double checked
he missed nothing.
When he was certain
he set out
over the horizon.
One thousand cranes take flight
and there is a sudden silence
as the cat stares up, bidding them farewell.
We barely stop to notice,
despite the rainbow of colors
replacing the clouds, even the sun
seeming to pause in wonder.
Two thousand hands made this
happen, one person, unrelenting,
knowing anything less
would be nothing at all.
Each crane dips its head
in appreciation for its freedom,
no longer trapped
in a two-dimensional prison.
over the Park
a Magritte sky
gather in an old oak
to discuss this,
fly off at the approach
of a black lab
in imagined freedom.