Future Journals
November 29, 2017
someday
sooner than later
if I had to guess
during drought and wildfire
heatwave and hurricane
as bullets rain down
and blood floods the cracks in our sidewalks
between bomb sirens’ warnings and evacuated streets
while tv news broadcasts promote hate, fear, death
when no one is looking
when no one expects
we’ll enjoy our morning coffee
take our children to the park
drink beers with our friends
and sing along to the radio
young dreamers will still write about falling in love
eternally hopeful for a future so improbable
their journals one day to be found
preserved in our rubble
allowing distant historians to know
the truth
Memory From a Past Life
November 12, 2017
In some past life I vividly recall sprinting in fear through a field of land mines just before dawn.
I came to a sudden halt when the light crested over the horizon, and through the smoky mist, a stunning orange sky began to slowly win the battle against the blackness that had been surrounding me.
Tiny pieces of sun flickered off the dewey amber grass, revealing the many bodies of fresh young troops lying near — damp and dead — frozen in time.
Looking around I saw things you would never want to see.
Things you don’t want to know.
Things I refuse to tell.
I ached with guilt
for finding such peaceful beauty in this devastating scene. I sobbed hard, forever changed, as no man should ever have to be.No longer noticing the stench of decay, I inhaled deep cleansing wafts of the country air. I wiped the sweat and tears from my filthy face, feeling a bewildering sense of hope.
A defiant step forward was misplaced, and my arms and legs were suddenly gone. I remember enjoying the sunrise a few short moments longer.
Despite everything then and since, somewhere — hidden deep away– I still manage to carry some hope today.