Manufactured Milk and Honey

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Image courtesy of: https://saunteringpilgrim.com/2016/11/20/giving-thanks-in-the-land-of-milk-and-honey/

 

You say this is Paradise

You sing songs of praise

You compare your sunny sunshine

to places of blustery blizzards

as if the cold snapping

  and wind whipping weather

is a permanent hell,

rather than a seasonal phenomenon,

a life cycle that births the fields that feed us.

And what of your impervious impenetrable scape?

Is it a highway to heaven?

How far can you see?

Have you looked up from your holy book?

Have you yet to temper

your sallow sermons

your vicious verses

your jaded judgments

that you’ve been unleashing on others?

Where is the  Love?

The Openness?

The Affirmation of Another’s Humble Humanity?

Beware of Paradise!

Dig just a bit deeper

Flip that coin

You may very well find another treasure trove

A revelation

that it is nothing

but a cult-like con game

a parkway for plutocrats

 serial suppressors of fundamental rights

a no mans land of malls

drive by maniacs*

where Guns, God and “Girls! Girls! Girls!” coexist

as if divinely ordained.

 

* A recent news story here where a man shot two others, killing one, in a road rage incident

Day 7: This one is an amalgamation of various experiences, observations and  news items from living here in the sunny South.

A Lonely Woman

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      Image courtesy of: https://pixels.com/featured/lonely-woman-maya-n.html

 

I know a lonely woman

She hides behind her book thumping faith

I know a lonely woman

She lives vicariously through her children

infantilizing and sheltering them

from the world’s wicked ways.

I know a lonely woman

She is pretending perfect piety

I know a lonely woman

I see her simmering suffering

  I know a lonely woman

She is relentlessly religious

I know a lonely woman

I see the insecurity beneath the striving

I know a lonely woman

She did the “right thing”

I know a lonely woman

She married to cover her “sin”

  I know a lonely woman

But does she know herself?

Day 4: I opened up my bedside journal and found  the start of this poem, very rough. I wrote those ideas last September.  Somehow even this piece is not quite the whole story, but it does reveal some of her.