A Comedy of Tragic Proportions (Sonnet)

Have you noticed, all the gregarious
people have disappeared? No more laughter,
joy, now everyone is so serious.
It seems to have happened sometime after

the reds and blues became oblivious
to the Other. We're in a new chapter
this year, our world is so precarious.
Fear's overtaken. Who has the answer?

What are the questions? Who's profiting from
it? Who's suffering in it? Whose priv'lege
allows them their blindness to pain; income
escapes them from Others, privatized bridge.

Perhaps we need a cosmic comedy,
or, better yet, some naked honesty.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019




Comments

Post a Comment

Your comments and feedback are welcome. Please be sure to be respectful.

Popular posts from this blog

Nana te Amo

Originally Posted: Monday, May 29, 2017Nana te Amo

Images of babies. Soft skin, sleepy eyes, smells of powder and poop, sweet earthy smells, chubby cheeks, perfect lips, and tiny tiny fingers and toes. A soft head of dark hair against Carmel skin and deep blue gray eyes. Your weight against my chest as you breathe heavily, deeply, and twitch in your dreams of heaven and earth, secure in your soul's memories, trusting in the life into which you have been placed. I hold you in my arms, my grandson, and give you promises of love, safety, hope, joy, health. Knowing I can guarantee none of these. Te amo, mi Jonah.


© Christine Salkin Davis, 2017
Read more

Creation's Signs (Sonnet)

Ice beads on tree branches, lacy limbs, white
fog sky. Silent cold of solstice, frozen
buds and waiting, wanting more. Trust the fight
for spring will win; life is always chosen
by the curtain drop. Germinating, tight
encased in fallow ground; warmth will blow in
when it's day. Hazy sky will turn to bright.
Seasons shift from snow to green and flow in
new anticipated patterns, cycles.
Young to old and seed to flower, winter's
sleep to summer's fruit, living, miracle
of death, deeper love from friendship's center.
Good needs time to grow and patience, plot lines'
tensions, resolutions. Creation's signs.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019


Read more

Two Days after the School Shooting

How can rustling trees dance their wild dance,
shimmering leaves and birdsong symphony;
how can sunshine in the sky take a chance,
When not yet buried in the grave is he?

How can the butterfly, fly so carefree,
How can the trees still stand and earth still turn,
How are clouds afloat ‘cross the sky, lazy,
When the mourners have not begun to mourn?

Why don't meetings, work, and email, adjourn?
I need some space and time to pause today.
I'm drowning in emotions and concerns.
I need to not have to know what to say.

I do know I will have to find a way,
But I'm a little raw right now to start.
So can't I wait until a better day?
I skinned my knee only it was my heart.

Corruption proliferated and greed’s
the new normal; not sure how to proceed.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019


Read more