A palm beach buried in snow
white as a blank page
that waits for a story I’ll never write
I look ahead instead
at the future
pale as death unknown
And we’ll never know
the scream of the tree as it fell
the painful saw
the pulp it was pressed into
Or the chipping
the beating
the bleach that ripped away its hue
that stained it white
and left it here
for who
First published in Orenaug Mountain Poetry Journal
In the land where I grew up
Everyone knew that racism is ugly
Everyone knew that Nazis are evil
And that hate is dangerous
The land where I grew up took in refugees
Gave them hope and sheltered them from enemies
Offered jobs and schools and churches of all kinds
But not much was taught about slaveowners
Not much was taught about genocide
Not much was taught about how it came to be
Except to say that it was destiny
Just look at this beautiful land
At the mountains and prairies and
Opportunities
Look how free you are in this world
To dream about wealth and safety
Where not much is taught about empathy
And not much is taught
About propaganda
I am a mother in Missouri
Where oceans used to be
Where mountains have slumped over
In their age
In their weariness
I am Minneapolis
I am Portland
I am Chicago
I am New York
Just as the sun rises each day
And sets every evening
My heart beats
My blood runs cold
I long for the comfort of caves
And the serenity of small streams
With every headline a flash of lightning
I ache for torrential rain
The kind that collapses trees
And blocks roadways
The aftermath crafts the path for us
So all that's left is one choice
That leads us to love
That leads us to live
