When the Bombs Exploded

When the bombs exploded, I was not there.

I was wandering through the botanical  gardens many, many miles away. I was looking for beauty and inspiration with my brother.

The daffodils  from above.

The daffodils from above.

When the bombs exploded, I wasn’t thinking about the cruelty and senseless acts of violence that fill our world today. Nor of the acts of cowardliness that are disguised as rebellion.

Because make no mistake, yesterday’s act was the ACT OF A COWARD!

Yes, the person or persons who did this are cowards. They sit back and enjoy the chaos and pain they caused. They revel in the news coverage and in their moment of glory. But they don’t have the  courage to claim or explain their act.

THEY ARE COWARDS!

When the bombs exploded, I was not thinking about acts of bravery or cowardice, or how I would react in the face of tragedy. I was reflecting on possibility and hope and ways to change the world to make it a better, more peaceful place.

Sibling Reflections

Sibling Reflections

When the bombs exploded, I was writing a poem with my brother. I would write one line and then show him the last word. He would then respond and show me the last word. And so on . . .

These were the words we saw:

Time.

change.

Possibilities.

hold?

fold?

fantasy.

world.

toes.

Eerie words in retrospect, because the bomb went off and limbs were lost, and the world changed.

Here is the poem we wrote together:

MIND’S ALIKE

By Lisa and Steve Kramer

Changes come with the seasons but also with
Time.

Moving forward, moving back, always now, always
change.

Yet with change comes growth and unexpected
Possibilities.

Ready to fly, or maybe dive beneath the depths; what does the future
hold?

Should we hold onto past dreams? Or is it time to let go and move forward? When do we know when it is time to
fold?

It often comes back on itself, or maybe makes shapes of
fantasy.

How does one turn fantasy into reality? Perhaps we can’t reach the fairies and the magic, but with focus and intent we can, indeed, change the
world.

It is our heart, it is our soul, it is the solid beneath our
toes.

When the bombs exploded, this was a poem of hope, but now it feels like a poem of sadness. And yet, the beauty of the day remains, and the beauty of those people who helped others outshines the horror of the act. The words of people who were there make me feel that perhaps change can happen. Hope can happen. Kindness can happen.

Beauty still exists.

Snapshot_2013415 (41)

When the bombs exploded, a  poem was just a poem. But now everything is different . . .

because the bombs exploded.

Moving Through the Sadness

A dream swallows me
images with no meaning
but the sense of being trapped
in a home that is not my own
without any dreams to move me forward . . .A rainy day

into tomorrow. I pull myself awake
yearning to remain in
the oblivion of sleep
but terrified by the images that
haunt me . . .

into my waking hours.
I blink awake
and hug my daughter
in desperation and love
looking for answers she does not have.
She doesn’t even understand the questions . . .

I write in my Morning Pages
filled with words I’ll never share
some of hope
some of fear
some of the sadness I carry with me . . .

out into the living room
to be greeted by a flowerDad's flower.
that represents Dad
the man I miss
the man I mourn
the man who was . . .

the man who I never really knew.
I wonder what my daughter knows of me.
What mark will I leave behind
for future generations unknown?
Will my life pass as a blink
with nothing to show but the memories . . .

found in a flower?
I move through the day,
searching through the hope
and find a dream
written by two idiots
that reminds me that all that  really matters . . .

is the journey, not the destination.

Moving Toward Possibility

 

 

At 4am

At 4 am
Darkness is
inevitable.

Not the literal darkness
of a world at rest–
for that is hard to find
as the lights of technology
bleed through
a constant reminder
of human vs. world.

This is the darkness
that leaks out of nightmare
where painful reality
joins forces
with the creatures who hide inside
gnawing at sensitive spots
until your mind screams wake up
or stay in a land filled with
creeping mists
oozing their chill
across the floor
while doomed faces
threaten you
with the failures
of your own mind
and the reality of a world
which prides greed and cruelty
over community
We all pay the price
When we wake into
the inevitable darkness of doubt.

‘Tis the Season of “Bah Humbug!” (100 WCGU)

Click on the image to visit other challenges.

Bah Humbug!
Words I want to yell
in a holiday season that’s gone to h#@%

What’s there to celebrate
in a world gone mad
when every day brings word of one more sad?

Children killed
before their life begins
warped people yelling that it’s because of a world full of sin.

I look for hope
from the kind ones I know
who hurt as much as I do, to see the world so.

I yearn to celebrate
a time of peace and joy
not just an excuse to buy another toy.

Instead I find myself
In search of a sign
that there is love in the world, and it is benign.

 

I Can’t Imagine

Candle

Candle (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I can’t imagine . . .
the pain they are feeling now
as infinite tears pour down my face
and I rush home to hug my child.

I’m lucky I can.

I can’t imagine . . .
what could induce someone
to destroy so many lives
with such destructive force.

I’ll never understand.

I can’t imagine . . .
why people don’t see
that violence begets violence
and leaves nothing but pain.

I’ve lost all hope.

I can’t imagine . . .
how we can fix this
as long as people cling to
their right to defend themselves.

Who is the enemy?

Today I mourn
not just for young lives
snuffed before they really lived
but for all humanity,
all who believe that war
and murder and violence
are not the answer.

We’ve lost our way

I can’t imagine . . .
how we’ll ever find it.

In Defense of Gray (100 WCGU)

Gray is such a dismal word
but why must it be so?
It makes pink pop
Red and orange too
It even heralds snow.

It’s neutral
It’s not black or white
It doesn’t judge or take a stance
Some say it helps stabilize
And make vibrant colors dance.

Native Americans, some people say
associate gray with friends
It symbolizes security
Maturity
Upon gray you can depend.

But still gray skies indicate
days of doom and gloom
Unless you choose to take that day
as an opportunity
a chance to read a book, drink some tea,
and snuggle in your room.

 

This is my entry in Julia’s 100 Word Challenge for Grown-ups this week, with the prompt “Grey” (or gray, which is the correct spelling?). For an old look at Gray in my life visit a poem of mine from a while back called “A Gray Day”

 

Sarah’s First Halloween

Little Sarah shook with fear,
she knew not what to do.
She clung to Daddy with trembling hands
as a ghost floated up and said “Boo!”

She had seen a bright green witch,
monsters and a vampire bat!
Why would her parents take her outside
and not protect her from that?

They dragged her toward a spooky house
with a cauldron that smelled like feet
they rang the bell, she closed her eyes,
Someone yelled “Trick or Treat!”

The pumpkin-shaped basket she carried
filled with strange weight
she looked inside to be surprised
by more candy than she ever ate.

 

 

This post is my entry in the (2nd Annual!) HALLOWEENSIE CONTEST!!!!! that was recommended to me by Nancy when I read her entry. The rules are simple: 

“The Contest:  write a 100 word Halloween story appropriate for children (title not included in the 100 words), using the words witchbat, and “trick-or-treat.   Your story can be scary, funny or anything in between, poetry or prose, but it will only count for the contest if it includes those 3 words and is 100 words (you can go under, but not over!)  Get it?  Halloweensie – because it’s not very long and it’s for little people :)”

Be sure to post it today (by 11:59 pm EST) and link it back to Susannah Leonard Hill’s blog. Have some spooky fun!

 

 

A Healing Brew (100WCGU)

Today Julia gave the 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups with a little reluctance, but asked us to ” create a recipe of a dish fit for a witch.” I chose to take a slightly different approach, since I: a) prefer the image of witch as related to Wicca  and b) am very concerned about my father who has Alzheimer’s and just went into the hospital today. I decided to use the concept of healing herbs for my “recipe” and found this website as a reference. Julia, I hope you understand. Please visit the challenge for other entries.

Gather thee, sisters three
to use the power of magic that heals

A dash of rosemary
a sprinkle of dill
combat many different ills.

Oregano to disinfect
Cayenne to relieve pain.

Cilantro washes toxins out
Mint to calm digestive strain.

Curry powder
fights evil disease that strips away dignity.

Parsley protects our bodies plumbing
to improve health for one more day.

Sprinkle basil for additional aid
add a pinch of ginger to keep sickness away.

Stir it into a special brew
Mixed with words of prayer and love

Add the mixture to any meal

Let those who suffer
Blessed be!

 

 

An Ending Season (100 Word Challenge)

This weeks challenge at Julia’s place made me wax a little poetic and melancholy.

What if this was your last year to live?
Will the days speed by even faster?
Will you feel each moment as a special gift?
Will you yearn more for the past?

Will you see each day with brand new eyes?
Spring might seem fresh and daring
a rush of melting-water sighs
a saucy breeze filled with birds who sing.

Summer heat will melt away
concerns about the future
each lazy water-and-flower filled day
making every moment richer.

The flaming fall of crisp red leaves
will warm the fading senses
filled with love one cannot see . . .

And the winter will bring silence

Nothing is Impossible (100WCGU)

This image is Julia’s prompt for the 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups this week. Be sure to visit her, and other posts. Maybe you would like to join in the fun?

One’s soul can be found
in far-reaching heights
where the silence of the wind
drowns out
the dream-crushing cry
of “Impossible!”

In loneliness
so sublime it sings
one achieves perfect
perception of what is . . .
indeed . . .
possible.

One step towards
the unknown
brings us one breath closer
to a world
where dreams exist
and everything is possible.

Fear of haphazard gusts
or the fragility
of standing near the edge
doesn’t stop the
reality
of achieving
the impossible.

Each agonized step
forces unused muscles to dream
and ignore
faceless voices that say
“You can’t!”
“You won’t!”
“No!”
The end reveals true
possibility

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