A Grave Event

There are no graves here. Only the plaintive

wind sounding the cries of sick children their 

hopeless mothers, their spirits roaming the

infamous grounds still housing the barracks

and the crematoria, the vast ovens that spewed

human ash over the countryside, nurturing the

ground replenishing soil in an agrarian countryside.

Countless human lives ended here deliberately

and with malice suffocated by deadly gas but 

graves there are none. The site, its purpose-built 

horror chambers and the surrounding soil a 

testament to humankind's capacity to extend 

itself in a vast exercise of destruction. Walking 

in an atmosphere of hushed introspection the 

current leader of the nation that aspired to rule 

the world and was waylaid by its focus on genocide

strolls alongside the leader of the occupied host 

country on whose soil the colossal affront to 

humanity occurred. One demurring responsibility

the other sighing at the inhumane blight her nation 

was responsible for. The world is their witness

they abhor the past even as the corrosive events

of the present creep toward an intended renaissance.

 

 

 

He Pleases Me So

 

When we were young a lifetime ago

I was the one who trusted and he was 

the cynic and I was forever remonstrating

with him, irked that his attitude might very

well turn people away misunderstanding

the person within the skeptic's facade yet

it was no facade and he remains to this

very day the cynic he once was. What

has changed is the loving person within

has found the courage to face the realities

of life while I become discouraged and

always in need of his smile that never

fails to meet my face turned toward him. 

He pleases me so. In our tight clasp of

one another we have grown old together

with grace and thanksgiving. And though

we are decidedly reserved, it has become

his view of others that empathy is an

emotion to bring to the service of those

whose circumstances demand it. And so

I witness time and again his gruff voice

soft, his arms so accustomed to encircling 

me, hugging others reeling from wretched 

blows of fate; an elderly woman bereft of

her dog's companionship, a wan neighbour 

whose health has noticeably deteriorated

a confused child briefly separated  from a 

parent, the presence of animals, insects 

and birds gently moved from areas of traffic 

to natural shelter. Our intimate recognition 

of each others' characteristics has melded 

us as though we are one entity yet time and

again this man introduces me to another

facet of his being and I an suffused with

gratitude for his warm embrace of life.

 

Keep Pumping

 

Agreed, they have all the attributes that

respond to getting 'bang for your buck'.

Hard not to notice their appearance among

the other bright and colourful baubles in a

holiday season meant to appeal particularly

to the child in everyone and the children

living in the homes that host them on their

winter lawns. All the requisites check out

with flying colours for they are large

eye-catching, nostalgic and brightly lit

designed by minds who know the value of

broad appeal to young and old. And there

they sit, irresistible to the eye, drawing

appreciation from all who view them as is

the householder's intention. Last year the

one decorating a lawn up the street was

Disney-themed, with Mickey as Santa

surrounded by a lesser but just as colourful

supporting cast. This year there are two

Choo-Choos blaring colour and form on

two separate lawns down the street. At first

appearance they glow with brilliant appeal.

But this is the white wasteland of the Great

Frozen North above the 49th Parallel and

while a White Christmas is guaranteed, the

assurance that a large inflated decoration

will stay that way cannot be; a tradeoff for 

Christmas in such warm climes as California

or Florida where inflatables are guaranteed 

not to deflate amidst a dearth of snow. Yet

those homeowners, battling desperate chill

of sub-zero temperatures and falling snow

faithfully emerge every day to re-inflate 

those child-centric Christmas decorations.

 

 

Snow Imprint

 

The forest floor, well on its way
to freezing - encouraged, bullied
by impending winter's
dominion over land
and inland waterways...

Those ferocious icy blasts
have brought new, permanent
snow, covering that rigid floor.
Snow flurries pause lazily in
downward spiral toward
winter's certain depths.

Wind whips bare branches.
The scarlet head of a woodpecker
brutalizing the trunk
of an ancient pine, shards flying
reveals a wide, white gap
the bird rewarded for its
destructive industry.

Clouds catapult their spare
contents with diminishing returns
as an insistent gust sweeps them
imperiously aside to reveal
an azure promise.

Beams of modest brilliance
modified by the season
yet still sufficiently solared
illuminate a child's
luminous snow-angel.

 

 

The Human Condition

 

How appalling it is to know that in many 

countries of this great wide world people live 

in squalid, hopeless conditions of extreme

poverty facing institutionalized discrimination

due to ethnicity, religion and social conditions

of long cultural tradition where distrust and

viral hatred between tribal groups and minorities

fosters threats and civil strife and food shortages

threaten alongside lack of health care where

raging epidemics of deadly diseases due to

lack of sanitation compromise the longevity

of those unfortunate enough to be citizens.

And how fortunate those others are who live

in civilized societies whose economies ensure

employment and whose constitutions pledge

sanctity of the individual and equality of

opportunities, if not outcomes. Where the

assurance of a plentiful food supply, housing

and universal medical care fulfills peoples' 

basic needs of ample water and energy and 

schooling where offsprings' aspirations to 

succeed in life can be realized. There, where 

human rights are respected by custom and by

law and where human potential is encouraged. 

Bedeviled by the presence of addictions, by 

homelessness and despair. Where children are 

stalked by pedophiles. The homeless and the 

hungry kick pride aside and public food banks 

distribute donations to the needy. And where 

domestic violence creates the necessity of 

public shelters whose security and capacity is

never quite accommodating enough to solve 

the endemic issues of humanity's incapacity 

to govern itself credibly as a civilization.

 

Winter Solstice

 

This has been most auspicious
this scintillatingly bright day
beyond bone-chilling
given plunging temperatures
high humidity and incessant wind.

Our boots crunch deeply
into the ice-caked snow
as we pass trees in seasonal
white festoon, wind still busy
urging cakes of snow to !plop!

The sky blue, with drifting
white banners decorating the occasion
a silvery scimitar of a moon
lost in the greater grandeur
of that amazing cosmos.

It is not yet mid of the afternoon
sun sending long shadows
as our legs assume slender
proportions as of gliding tentacles.

As bright as the day has been
there is a darkening quality
hovering in the atmosphere
the sun all too prepared to set.

There is a supreme tranquility
on this shortest day of the year
ushering in calendar winter
though the winter season has long
preceded the calendar.

One an event of nature's making
the other a notion of humankind.

 

 

Winter Arras

 

Yesterday wind bellowed through the

forest, whipping snow from branches while

birds fled and animals shivered in their burrows.

Today -- ah today, the wind has transformed

itself from threat to avuncular host whispering

welcome to those who tread the forest pathways

portraying itself as meek and companionable

speaking the language of comity and friendship.

Yet something lingers in the woodland interior

of yesterday's hostility when the surly wind

sent penetratingly icy fingers of painful cold

to remind all that huddled in trepidation and

fear that its power is unlimited and occasional

episodes of theatrical bonhomie do not define

its entire repertoire. Even while the mild and

orderly gusts ruffle the feathery snow dusting

remaining on boughs and branches there is an

aura of disquiet. Dusk has arrived too soon in

heralding night's imminence when under cover

of a black night the wind can plot new excesses

to terrorize its tender victims hoping to survive

winter's misery. For the meantime a collective

sigh is released from the forest as the heavens

liberate their treasury of translucent crystals

their inner sparkle brilliantly lighting the sky.