Wholesomely Yours

What could possibly be more comforting
than to know that no matter how you
disport yourself, irregardless of the 
manner in which you may be regarded by
the rest of the world your family will always
stand by your side. As an ego restorative there
is nothing quite like an abundance of allies
who share a significant quality that you also
are part of and as brothers are foursquare
with you. Sudan's ruler may be regarded as
a mass murderer, but there he is pledging
loyalty to you, Syria's butcher. And though
the Arab League's 22 member-states saw
fit to disown you Bashar al-Assad, blood
will always win out even if sectarian ties
separate you for you are Arab born and as
such belong to this distinguished gallery of
thugs and mass murdering states ruled by
royalty and tyrants and sheiks, military
leaders and backgrounded by the clerics
who never hesitate to issue deadly fatwas
against any who deny the world of Islam's
basic tenet of bringing peace to the world by
embarking on a jihad against the nations of
war deigned such for refusing to submit. You
Assad, will be enjoined to rejoin the Arab
League for their members have missed your
presence and in an act of magnanimity now
pledge to endorse your honoured presence.

Insufferable Insubordination

The ultimate order of power lies in the
capable hands of none other than nature
the ultimate creator. As vast as the universe
is it is in fact but a laboratory where nature
devises her scenarios, arranges chemicals
and mixes her uncountable elixirs to produce
galaxies, their suns and the planets that
revolve around them leading her to turn 
toward the micro-level of inspiring new life
forms upon them to study the properties that 
evolve and transform. On one planet alone
that we are most familiar with she has 
created and disposed of billions of living
species most found to bore her and thus quite
expendable leaving a remaining ten million
to prove their value to this most exacting of
creators who just happens to ferociously tend
to minute details in guiding her decisions. 
Much is known of human predecessors. Much
much more is unknown and will not be known
as nature afire with the spirit of creation
creates endlessly and disposes with casual
ease. She may now be bemused that the
upstart human race has evolved as a most
impudent and insubordinate creature which
in its spoilage of nature's resources threatens
her primacy and the existence of all that
thrive, on this her least mysterious planet.

Humanity's Salvation

No event can contend with the emergence of 
new life fresh with the dew of spring's
awakening to excite, awe and delight for there 
are scant few observers and participants alike 
who are not taken with the birth of a dimpled 
child much less new births of any creature 
presenting as an exquisite immature version of the
maturity that will eventually overtake them.
Without doubt it is monumentally fitting that 
the whole of creation appears to be fixated on 
the birth of a child as a momentous occasion 
in world history leading to the emergence of a 
worldwide religion. The elder version hailed 
as the Prince of Peace delivered his universal 
message in a transmission of earthly life as a 
gesture from the God of Abraham. And how 
peculiar it is that it had to be a Jewish child 
whose identity as the voice of God transfixed 
vast multitudes. How much more peculiar that 
those worshipping multitudes chose those of 
the Prince's heritage to single out as unfit for 
habitation among the faithful, to view them 
with scorn and derision while hailing the 
miraculous deliverance proffered by the Almighty
through a Jewish heritage as a light unto the
world in one fell swoop gifting the world with
the brilliant light of salvation gratefully 
accepted while rejecting iniquitous Judaism.

Qualms

He is but a vain, ignorant and shallow man
who confuses the dignity, honour and 
power invested in the office he holds with
attributes that he does not himself 
exemplify. It is, above all, the power in
the position temporarily his that he feels
reflects the glory of an absent intellect
and inability to but mock the cerebral
functioning of those superior to him
holding positions meant to guide his own
while his quixotic decision-making sends
quavering shivers down the spines of
world leaders for any decisions he makes
in the full fallibility of his flawed character
through the intrinsic majesty of his office
inevitably impacts the stability of the free
world upon whose freedom the decisions
emanating from his office traditionally
guarantees. He is a madman run amok
and the dilemma is that lawful democracy
and the people's will placed him in
such authority that others can only hope
he will in due time be but a footnote in
history which cannot pass soon enough.

The Utility of Strangers

If I were reading a book and it became
too intense I could put it down for a
break, but confronting me was no book
but an irate stranger whom happenstance
has placed before me as he waxes
indignant over the state of world affairs.
I did nothing other than to be there when
he was also there in that public place
where books line the library shelves
my presence somehow goading him to
approach and ventilate his distemper with
the times. In the process revealing more
than any stranger might want to know
outside the pages of a novel yet his
eagerness to reveal himself kept me
prisoner to his rants as did the bristling
bulk of his aroused presence with no
easy escape beyond courtesy for who 
am I to shun anyone in such obvious need
as this man born in Cuba to a barefoot
doctor, himself attending university in
Russia travelling to Tunisia because he
spurned Communism and atheism. As a
Christian he found no comfort sojourning
in Tunisia despite its cosmopolitan flair
ending up in my country, now his yet
its glaring faults mystify and enrage him
as he acquaints me passionately with
every one of his disappointments in life.

Raging On

It it SO frustrating attempting to
conduct a rational discussion with Jews.
They are beyond irritating, argumentative
stubborn and irrational. Tell them there
is no evil intention in discounting their
inflated numbers of Jewish deaths they
call the Holocaust and they shrink back
in horror as though you were the very
architects of Hitler's Final Solution. Say
to them that they as an identifiable group
have not been the only ones that have
struggled against odds, but they surely
must shoulder some of the blame since
as a race they are so ... exclusionary ...
so ... hostile ... so scheming and cunning
... so arrogant ... little wonder they are
accused of trying to control ... everything.
People resent that kind of self-appointed
grandstanding in finance, communications
you know, that kind of thing. Their endless
tedious accusations of anti-Semitism they
label any and all critics is blatantly lacking
in respect over reasonable debates such as
criticism of Zionist aspirations depriving
others to empower Jewish nationalism.
But people of good will like us become
accustomed to their manipulating ways
and we'll keep on trying to get through
to their better natures, those prickly Jews.

United In God

Existence of all life forms animate
inanimate is a random result of nature's
endless yet indifferent formulaic measure
of the universe created in a primordial
and timeless vacuum through an ongoing
cataclysmic shrug. Her formula in the
creation of humanity included hubris so
deep and vast the creatures themselves
took pains to create an Almighty fiction
to whom all creation could be attributed.
In turn investing that creative spirit with
the venomous emotions entrusted to mankind
of jealousy, greed, passion and the imperative
to shelter all the treasures that resourceful
nature left at the deputized command of 
man from the grasp of rivals. This supra
natural deity demands of his faithful full
obeisance, their very lives elevated to a
greater plane of existence in exchange 
for human slaughter. Extolling the very
conquest of all humanity in the greater
treasury of surrender to the whims and 
wishes attributable to the powerful and
frightening one on high exuding strength
and extracting awe while commanding all
to submit to jihad to overwhelm reluctance
of those without faith, while among those
of the faithful a pitiless war of attrition 
among themselves forms the base of total
wholesale destruction of the human race.

Doubly Wronged

The night of broken glass was the
opening salvo in a monstrous solution
that dispelled disbelief, the occasion
when the dire message signed, sealed
and delivered gave warning and nudged
the conscience of the world to grudgingly
permit the transport of children from
Germany, Austria, Czechoslovakia
Poland shipped off to Britain then to
Israel, Australia, Canada, the United
States for haven from certain death at
the very time when doors were being
slammed in the face of Jews desperate
to escape what became the inevitable.
The passage of a lifetime where young
memories lingered on the faces of parents
their voices, their assurances, their
absolute absence from existence yet
haunting those children surviving the
curse of the Holocaust. But wait, on the
cusp of death themselves now their
lifespan ebbing they are assured the
reparations that a different Germany now
proffers, diligent post-war in rescuing
the nation from its atrocious place in
history to make amends. Cash awards
an apology yet nothing can restore lives
stolen and memories laden with sorrow.
The official view that bestowing cash
compensates the vacuum in bereaved
children's lives as brutal as the original
campaign to destroy all Jewish life.

Its Denizens

The density of the tree growth in the forest
is impressive and so is the topography
called a ravine yet so widespread that
there are many ravines, many rivulets
at each of the valleys sided by steeply
sloped hills that shelter the rarely-seen
animals for which the forest is their
natural habitat. Accessibility to the
forest not far from a large urban area
is far from difficult with many points
of entry for the curious and those who
enjoy exploring along with their equally
curious companion animals eager to
lope along the trails that emerged long
ago when animals and then people began
to launch a presence in the byways and
hidden areas of the forested ravine. It is
where teens meet secretly at night to
light fires both to sit around and smoke
weed and drink, occasionally to torch the
hollowed-out interior of majestic old
pines. It is where fleeting glimpses of
deer and foxes, raccoons and skunks can
be seen as they slink from trail to under
story. It is where nocturnal animals hunt
the owls and raccoons and a new breed of
coyote whose heritage is wolf and coyote
and when dusk enters and night falls it is
best to find shelter from the eerie silence.

Mythic Realities

Lilith was too sensuously demanding
and Adam was too fearful of her
urgency. He regarded Eve with her
bashful nubile hesitation obedient to
his demands and all was well. Lilith
went her way establishing her own
dynasty of women regarding themselves
superior to the weak vacillation of men
taken aback by the impudence of women
of impulse and confidence complacent
in the thought that Eve would remain
forever compliant until the day she
challenged and offered him opportunity
to view existence outside the familiar
to explore and satisfy his curiosity
not knowing he had none and would
not take the apple she had nibbled to
infuriate the tree's lawful owner who
ordered them expelled. Eve's stark 
disobedience did not fall far from the
tree that Lilith had long since abandoned
to forge her way in the world against
the condemnation born of suspicion and
fear borne of men toward women.

My Friend

Sad to say my friend your choice
while still young and full of optimism
has come back in your old age to sting
you with the reality that was waiting
in the wings yet coyly masquerading
as love when all it represented was the
opportunity of escape. You, on the other
hand, are at a point in life to which
there is no escape and you yourself
engineered the landscape that has shaped
the present in an unagreeable tableau
that would never have occurred to you
back at a time when you felt so eagerly
flattered by the amorous attention of a
nubile young woman anxious to escape
the smothering lack of promise that
her rural background represented while
you were the urbane, sophisticated and
unhappily married older salesman 
unable to resist a future with a young
and pretty woman whom you could shape
to your own devices only to discover
environment had already shaped her
and you are now left alone, lonely and
elderly inhabiting a 'retirement home'
while she, still young, occupies the
family home, has the vehicle and enjoys
countless trips to exotic destinations.

Lauding Terror

In brief, what are the verities but a
movable feast viewed through the lens
of faith and ideology, the merest mist
of wavering the signature of the
uncommitted those who move
effortlessly between love and hate
and in their subconscious hate is
inextricably linked with faith when its
raison d'etre extolls the extermination
of those whose differentiated verity
fails to align and the veneer of civilization
slips, revealing the savagery of morbid
hostility rewarding the deaths of
innocents with promises of glory
where the exploits of slaughter are
feted and the death-deliverers become
celebrated, renowned role models
in an ancient ritual that speaks to
the hordes as a hallowed obligation.

Restraint

You like this woman, much younger
than yourself, for her bright intelligence.
You think she feels the same about you.
When you meet an exchange of warm
greetings, where a hug seem appropriate.
She is married, her husband as close to
uxorious without being nauseating, two
very nice people. When you speak so
animatedly there is always much to discuss
usually matters pertaining to local and
world news as lively discussions ensue.
It can be a refreshing experience those
spontaneous conversations, each adding
somewhat to the information gathered by
the other. She is scrupulous with her
distinctive appearance; willowy is the
word, with an eye to style. So when she
wears a close-fitting shapely winter coat 
the eye follows and the thought lingers
can she be warm enough, albeit unspoken.
You recall your annoyance when your
mother would observe of your middle-aged
figure that in her opinion you looked gaunt.
The deep vertical creases in your friend's
once smooth face mirror the pains she takes
in her diet, the cheeks drawn, eyes now
hollow, the smile as bright as ever, the
contrast unnerving. You grope for words
and swallow them, instead committing 
to commenting how 'delicate' she looks.
And when she turns her face askew to
ask whether that's a compliment, you
smile right back and say, yes, of course.

Hallowed Hollow Esteem

No mere commodity to be devalued
by any, social capital is an integral
part of our public persona as much as
it is an instrument of personal pride and
self-assurance. Once the display of
personality was the precinct of the wealthy
the socially connected, the powerful and
the celebrity class attracting attention
admiration and awe for having risen
from among the pedestrian clay for
inheritance, charisma, political clout
and power bestows on its holders an
aura of greatness difficult to define
since it is but an aura and nothing more.
Ah, the bewilderment of those in the
greater aggregate interpreting aura as
entitled admiration yearning for their
own place in the warming sun of public
acclaim. Enter the magic of the Internet
and all that was rare has become common
aspirational and open to all. Simply
synthesize the attributes of stardom
and claim them for one's own. Readily
accomplished in the fantasy world of
social media where frankly casual
admissions of superiority are channelled
eliciting attention and approval and 
lo and behold another star is born
shining high on the firmament of ego.

It Becomes You

Surely there can be little doubt that though 
it is formally cast as a noble reminder 
nudging the holder to commit to its standards
a conscience can seem extremely annoying 
for those who view it as totally expendable. 
On the other hand, in close communion with 
one's subconscious, the two work in tandem
requiring little introspection resulting in 
reaction and action and in this manner
expresses the deepest core values that a
human being can attain to. Think of it:
conscience challenges us to think of the 
welfare of others. That constant in our lives 
steers us unerringly toward behaviour we 
have no reason to feel derelict in. No reason 
to feel much of anything in fact since 
however we are guided by that prod 
thought is redundant in favour of simply 
responding as we know we should and 
will and get on with our lives. The conscience 
asserts its presence as a reminder to our alert
consciousness when we become aware
of events, agencies and personalities
absent conscience leaving in their wake
a moral wasteland and we are reminded
time and again of the vicissitudes of
human nature and the boundless exchanges
that identify us as immune to the stirrings
of a latent conscience finding favour in the 
more pedestrian exercise of its guidance.

Marathon Man

How to sketch the physiognomy of
the man friends and acquaintances know
as a triathlete for whom no physical
challenge has ever been a daunting prospect
and who even now has the demeanor and
physique of an athlete bursting with an
abundance of nervous and physical 
energy his wife laughs of in despair
for she lives with the agonizing pain
and suffering while we only see glimpses
of it now and again wondering how it can
be sustained and how it is possible that a
man with such physical resources and
enduring stamina has been left reeling
in the wake of sequential failures of
body parts requiring surgical interventions
therapies, patience and brief intermissions
when relief signals him to address those
beckoning hurdles to break more records
even as his body breaks, a body worn by
a man whose police rapid-response work
failed to satisfy his urges exposing him to
recurring danger, pursuing prowess in
setting standards and outdistancing them.
He is stoic, this man, in his suffering taking
comfort from the concerns expressed by
friends wishing him a swift recovery from
the latest of so many surgeries destined to
restore his failing body for yet another and
another glorious exertion extraordinaire.

You Are A Jew

You remember with great clarity when
as a child you were cursed as Christ-killer.
You are a Jew. You recall those persistent
queries by strangers to have you state
where you were really from when you
responded Canada. You are a Jew. It is
never far from your mind in childhood
watching your parents and their friends
gathering quietly, whispering to one 
another words that meant little to you
but which memory dredges up, words 
such as work camps, concentration camps
and death camps. You are a Jew. When
you became old enough you read about
the Inquisition, Pogroms, the Final Solution
and quivered in helpless rage. You are a
Jew. Because you are a Jew you developed
a sixth sense, knowing and fearing and
yet hoping. Because you are a Jew when
you hear certain phrases they stab your
soul. Now other generations experience
what you did and as they do your own
simply continue as Jew-hatred consumes
the minds of psychopaths everywhere on
this Earth. You shudder when you read
and you hear and you see repetitions of
the familiar. You see, you are a Jew.

The River Remembers

The historic river where the raucous
shouts of coureur des bois once rang
loud as they encountered riotous rapids
runs deep and wide. It is a river where
great fighting sturgeon and carp can still
be found, ancient fish too skilled at
evading those whose hunger for fame
in the world of fisherfolk reeks of
urban legends.  Great pine forests once
bordered the shores of that wild river
harvesters sending the felled giants
on their journey downriver, the river
bottom deep in their shed bark leavings.
Now it is small pleasure craft that ply
those waters, their white sails shining
in the sun. At this winter season though
nearby residents await the freezing up
of the river for fishing huts to spring
into presence, hopes of catching one of
the legends still uppermost in mind. On
this early winter day, a weather anomaly
crests over the river; above the sun 
gleams through the clouds as snow falls
in a squall that obliterates sight lines as
an ice fog wraps the river in recollection.

 

Winter Walk

The early morning sun illuminated
the house this morning in contrast
to the days when grey gloom
pervaded the atmosphere within
and without. Clear blue winter skies
come with a pricetag bringing icy
temperatures in lieu of snow and 
so cold that blustery winds wreak
havoc on warm-blooded creatures
huddling in their shelters. In the
forest among the trees where snow
yet remains on trunks and branches
and the forest floor is steeped in ice
all is still, no birds sing or flit about
much less the furry denizens last seen
frantically in search of denning-up
victuals to over-winter. Tramping
through the forest trails with their
winter-entrancing landscapes we
briefly savour the sharp air tingling
our nostrils, pinching our cheeks
as we watch the antics of our little
dogs clad as we are in winter gear
seemingly impervious to discomfort
entranced by the atmosphere at one
with the forces that shape our world.

Winter Garden

There, in my tender mind's eye our
summer garden still thrives in grand
colourful insouciance, a vivid reminder
of loss in a winter landscape whose
confined colour palette wearies my
consciousness that reverts to dreaming
of summer breezes, a searing sun
casting brilliance over the banished
splendour that roses and lilies awaken
my grieved sensibilities to mourn.
And does nature care that we are so
deprived of the joy of summer gardens?
She remains removed and singularly
unimpressed. This is, after all, her
world and we its tenants. These are
her seasons and she has her reasons.
Our gardens are her gardens in very
fact, on loan in the most temporary of
ways. Yet empathy does not completely
elude her. She nudges us to notice and
regard her very own unrivalled winter
garden, there for our visual comfort.

Fortune

Oh the places I've been to, the landscapes
I've seen, touched and that have touched
me throughout my long and fortunate
life. Standing on mountain summits and
looking out over the countless peaks
marching into infinity, ambling about in
an old-growth forest the masts of ancient
trees rising as of nature's cathedral ...
paddling lakes and rivers alongside loons
and great blue herons, cooking meals
over a campfire, watching the embers
drift skyward to join the multitude of stars
winking back from the deep velvet of
the sky. Living among people in far-off
countries of a heritage, culture and language
not my own. I could write of my adventures
and I have, just as have countless others
whose escapades allow me to see, hear
and feel what they experienced and through
them have been to Easter Island, Alaska
Antarctica, the Himalaya and Africa.
What more could anyone ever desire as
long, my love as you have been with me?

Wondering

I wonder why it is that the most frequent
dream that visits my sleeping hours that
I identify as a recurrent nightmare has
always been of myself at different stages
of my life wandering a busy street
looking, looking for familiar signposts
that would lead me home wherever that
home at any given time happened to be.
My subconscious mind busy while I
sleep dredging up concerns not known
to me during waking hours; am I then so
emotionally vulnerable? I think about our
two little twin poodles, brother and sister
who we know have thoughts and memories
and can discern far more than we credit
them with in their emotional attachment
to us. Their sensitivity to our emotional
fluctuations must come from somewhere?
Their language skills and capacity to
decipher body language, their willingness
to communicate to us their own body
language speaks to a deep need of their
very own. So I wonder when they sleep
do they too dream and wander about an
unfamiliar landscape in search of their
own vague recollections of dependency
on their mother, recalling no doubt her
deeply protective instincts, now absent.

That Elusive Fountain

Appearances certainly can be deceiving
but despite their faded appearance and
joyless expressions those gathered in
this place have a love affair with life
and they are determined against all odds
to cheat the unctuous solicitations of
the Grim Reaper. They may have lost
possession of many of their faculties
but the urge to survive remains constant
alert and defiant. Throughout the course
of the day they stream, one by one, in
pairs, ambulatory or pushing walkers
alternately being themselves pushed in
wheelchairs, all sharing that one ambition.
Some are new to this unit where the
lighting is maintained in a soothing dim
constancy and many are returnees; the
former for pre-surgical assessment, the
latter returning after open heart surgery
for routine checks. There the survivors
of long lives congregate in their white
wisdom studiously ignoring the presence
of counterparts yet occasionally leaning
forward to enquire of personal experience
as in recovery details by the anxious
willing to break the unspoken conspiracy
of courage in silent aloof indifference.

Geography

You see, you read, you hear and you
experience then you synthesize and the
result is your very own lesson on the
intersection of history and geography
at any given time leaving you with 
the realization of so many histories
and so many geographies and you know
the repetitious nature of it all and you
sigh, or you fail to and instead shrug.
You see an infant held in its mother's
arms, an adorable child with large and
luminous eyes into which can be read
its future in years of adapting to being
and thriving and becoming, its destiny
assured. You see an infant held in its
mother's anxious arms, the child with
large, vacant eyes in which there is no
future for it has already lived its destiny.
That child has reached what will become 
of it in reflection of where it was born 
and what it has too soon suffered.

There Is This

Speak the language of nature
and you will have an audience.
If words fail, do not despair
that poetry can not emerge for
nature is the foremost expounder
of poetic images whose presentation
transports in an ecstasy of visions
The poetry of a sunset, of new
fallen snow, of a child's smile
a bird's song, a blooming rose
and an ancient tree stretching
its arms up to the sky extolling
the perfection of its creator.