Like Goldilocks

 

The calendar year never errs. It

registers me at 85. And it's true I now

bear a cap of silvery hair, my face is

creased where it never was before

and though I'm still quick not quite

as I was. Sometimes when I look in

the mirror I'm surprised by my mother's

presence. Mostly, though I feel young

and why shouldn't I? Like Goldilocks

not too old, not too young. Except that

is when I'm out in public and society

informs me by the subtlest of whispers

that I've graduated to elderly status and

then Goldilocks exits leaving me with

the impression I've suddenly become old.

 

Repulsing Extermination

 

Disdain, oppress and persecute anyone

long enough, threaten, demean, humiliate

and they've been psychically wounded. Carry 

on and add to that litany of contempt casual 

violence enabled by diminishing the human 

stature of those forever at target and then no

type of assault, no corrective violence to alter

their place in the world seems to suffice. Leaving 

the ultimate expedient of ridding oneself of an

intolerable nuisance whose presence galls and

we enter the theatre of atrocities once expressed 

in the frequency of deadly pogroms which

themselves were obviously inadequate to rid 

the world of the pestilence of Jews. Enter the

Final Solution to ultimately forge a perpetual

motion machine; delegitimize, sanction, isolate 

dispossess and violate paving the way inevitably for  

vast populations of those whose heritage found root

in what the pious call the Holy Land to be 

obliterated. That was then. Now the remainders

of the despised have resurrected their ancient 

homeland and now they respond blow for blow. 

Yet there is the reality of timid hesitation, full

self confidence absent for the outlier nation

remains held in low regard yet yearns for 

approval, so in response to deadly provocations

looks to the international community, unwilling 

to earn further censure and so refrains from

striking the final blow to an enemy once

again wholly dedicated to its extermination.

 

Bleak Black Celebrity

 

A crime so repulsively heinous it

boggles the mind that when he recorded

himself eviscerating the man he had

just killed and noting for posterity before

he posted it that the parts were a carnivore's

delight the atrocity provided entertainment

and evoked envy among those for whom

such atrocities were treats to be savoured.

An international search through Interpol

brought him back to the scene of the

crime where he was charged, tried and

convicted, a man whose posturing and

egocentric hubris transfixed a reluctant

audience with disbelief that anyone could

become such a monster. The mute grief

of the victim's parents as they sat day

after day through the trial before returning

to their own country to mourn their son

there, seared the memories of the public

compassionate in their own sorrow that

society could raise such a deviant wretch.

Mother of the sadistic murderer though

begs to differ; they don't know her son but

she does, a lovely human being with not

an ounce of venom in his heart for anyone

for he played with kittens not as charged

tormented then killed them. But it is the

kindheartedness of the national prison

system that places everything in its proper

perspective when it arranged for his

marriage with conjugal rights to another

prisoner as they couple for a lifetime of

what others call happily wedded bliss.

 

Doctor ....

 

He sees you every six months and

you seem to think your advanced age

gives you liberty each time to tell him

how weary he looks, how strained and

you admonish him as though he is the

patient and you the doctor. He regards

you thoughtfully, shrugs and admits he

needs a rest but cannot see where he

would find one. Too busy, too many

calls on his expertise, too much you

know, responsibility. And you part of

course amicably, in hand yet another of

his prescriptions for a test, one of many

he has prescribed for you a woman an

elderly woman with an irregular heart

condition. His wan and worn image

stays with you and when the telephone

rings and his office informs you that

your cardiologist will be 'away' for

three months leaving others to care for 

 his patients while he recovers from

surgery you are not surprised that his

cardiologist has sent him to a cardiac

surgeon to undergo open heart surgery.

 

The Human Construct

 

There can be no doubt about the reality of 

existence for it is fraught with perils that must

be faced and somehow overcome lest tragedy

overtake those unable or unwilling to fend 

for themselves in preventing through whatever

means necessary voiding their lives through 

inaction and lack of caution. Those whom fate 

has placed in backward tribal-infested countries 

where culture is replete with suspicion, hatred

and violence are never at a lack to find others 

lower on the scale of survival probabilities 

than themselves, working through their fears

and frustrations by persecuting those less able

to mount defences. In socially and economically

advanced culture where laws are enacted to

ensure that social justice protects everyone the

pathology of hate seeks the shelter of anonymity

slithering its presence into dark recesses of 

the mind and public social order is maintained. 

The advent of communication on a global scale 

unimpeded by distance and cost has unleashed

the primitive in those whose tribal roots remain 

deeply embedded enabling sinister communion 

in the brotherhood of ethnic, racist, tribal venom

emboldening with its assurance of the presence

of shared vitriol that sheer numbers alongside 

the certitude of superiority qualifies them to 

creep out of the shadows resurrecting their 

mantra of racist-inspired leadership under which

the unter-mensch grovel to plead for their lives 

forfeited to the conquest of the uber-mensch. 

 

 

Snow's Dominance

 

Mid-day and yet twilight prevails despite

our surroundings scintillating minute sparks

of colour emitted from the soft contours of

fresh snow newly fallen ... and falling ...

and falling ... throughout the dark hours of

the night and in the daylight hours of the

morning to accumulate muffling the sounds 

of hidden life in the forest, despite the

crowns of deciduous forest trees denuded

in preparation for winter inviting sound

to penetrate. Our footfalls on the forest

trail are muted, the snow not yet crusted

with ice, and our small dogs, jet black

against prevailing white as snow continues

its lazy spirals from the pewter sky

gamboling before us in an excess of

pleasure at the changed landscape and

its accompanying texture that moves them

to a transport of delight, provide in their

presence a counterpoint of distinction

the silent and motionless forest embracing

our presence, the woodland canopy a roof

porous enough to permit snow entry to

complete its all-encompassing mission to

place the natural world in sleep as nature's

elements of winter's stern reign prevail.

The landscape transformed into a still-life

distinguished by obliterated shades leaving

black, grey and pristine white to dominate.

 

 

Home Invasion

 

Suddenly they were there, in our house

looming over us, burly and brusque

rough in appearance and intimidating

armed with hammers, drills, knives

their presence engulfing our sense of

privacy. Their grit-booted footfalls

spreading dirt on our floors, their

intentional gesture, leaving wide

open our sliding patio doors on a

sub-zero day, snow falling relentlessly

the wretched wind careening into the

open gap bringing the chill of winter

with it as snow swirled within and we

instantly felt our vulnerability yet were

powerless to fend off the cold much

less the actions of these strangers.

Their speech accented, informing us

one from Siberia the other from Poland

their intention to impact our lives as

they set about destroying the frame

holding the doors in place for full

exposure to the raging elements. They

worked like demons those intruders

coordinating their efforts as professional

installers, removing the sliders whose

functionality was depleted, replacing

them with new ones. Hard work that

took the experienced crew of two no

fewer than five hours of steady work

as we plied them with coffee and

cupcakes, cookies and genuine gratitude.

 

 

They Know

 

We had no need to consult the bible of 

doggy intelligence to infer that our sibling 

poodles rank high in that rating scale for

over the years they have given us ample 

demonstrations proving the level of their 

fine cerebral functioning. As for example 

their sensitivity to our sensibilities permitting 

us the fiction of feeling ourselves masters in

our own home. Their feeling of protective 

obligation to we two humans whose failings

are all too evident to them is more than

evidenced in their careful scrutiny of all 

who enter our home accompanied by a 

sharp chorus of barked instructions to stand

back. Although we fail their expectations 

with our lack of care for them by expecting

them to consume food fit for dogs they know 

better, holding out for the food we place on 

the table for ourselves depriving them the

opportunity to test its safety. The impression

we fondly maintain that they are safe and 

secure in our hands has led to their concern

over our well-being as they vet objects they

suspect of planning us harm and hasten to 

disarm them, leaving every zipper on any

piece of clothing a ruin and thus unable to 

wreak pain upon us. Whatever would we do

in the absence of their vigilant presence and

undoubted protection of we lesser creatures?

 

 

Civilization

 

To be civil is to be thoughtful and

concerned not only with one's own

welfare but that of others for if others

suffer privation and without order and

security would view your better state

with envy what is to stop them from

committing uncivil violence against you

in their own greater interest of sharing

what you own and would not share?

The state of civilization owes much to

the construct of a deity for nothing

inspires respect and fear so much as

does the prospect of an all-powerful

entity displeased with one's behaviour

capable of striking a fatal blow at a mere 

glance.... As the interlocutor of the 

all-powerful reminds humble constituents

the faithful must adhere to the Almighty's

precepts of civilized behaviour; to be

meek and humble, give praise to their

creator and strive for peace among

their fellows. The compact fails when

humanity stumbles on the impediments

that their creator has endowed them

with and when their creator's design

failed to take into account its flaws

so that all are culpable, the creator and

the inadequately blueprinted-created.

 

 

Observation

 

When I was a child I became conscious

of the strange feeling that whatever I

did wherever I went someone was

carefully watching me. Not watching

over me but observing me. Who might

it be? God? There was no religious

observance in my family, but I did know

that I was different than others of my

coevals and learned at an early age to

'recognize' small silent symbols to

differentiate people. Was I someone's

experiment? I'd better be on my best

behaviour to pass muster in that scrutiny.

So everything I did, whatever I encountered

and responded to, wherever I happened to

be there I was living my life and there

was someone watching. Was I being

judged? Censored? Admired? As I 

grew older such childish concerns left

me and getting on with life I abandoned

that awareness that had me at times

pretending to be a boy, thinking that

would garner less interest. Now I'm

past mere maturity with an awareness

that perhaps I am being watched. And 

the reason for that feeling escapes me. God?

My neighbours? Some hidden unbidden

source that would prove should it ever

reveal itself that we live in parallel worlds?

 

 

Forest Arras

 

In the forest all is still but for a slight

breeze rustling desiccated foliage

still clinging to oaks and ironwood.

The interior of the forest always

dim under the thickness of its canopy

but this afternoon fog shrouds the

distance and mist rises from the

slender brook not yet frozen over

trickling at the bottom of the forest's

ravine. The winter rain has ceased

encrusting the acquired layers of snow

with its sparkling diamond micro drops

leaving the atmosphere suffused with

humidity. In this diffused light bronze

leaves still hanging on beech boughs

acquire an effervescent shade of bright

orange, luminous against the severe

darkness of the day. Though late afternoon 

has not yet arrived, twilight has and as

it swiftly takes possession of the

forest, nocturnal residents will slowly

emerge from their daytime havens

exchanging place with the creatures 

for whom daylight signals their cycle

of activity, shuffling along the forest

floor or winging from conifer to

deciduous tree sheltering from the 

wicked elements of cold, wind, sleet.

 

 

Patience, Patient!

 

There it goes, that subconscious

chimera of an emotion between a

shudder and a grimace elicited by

that nauseating sound of your heart

sucking and sloshing as the skilled

technician, courteous and reserved

plies her expertise for that echogram

you were scheduled for. Her free

hand manipulates keys, swiftly and

gently hovers on the mouse of that

peculiar keyboard her eyes fixed on

the monitor that you'd prefer to

bypass, fixing your attention instead

on her curly blond hair, the way her

eyelashes form their delicate arc

over her eyes, silhouetted in the

dim light of the chamber where

you lie inclined on a gurney and

where her left hand probes your chest

with that sensitive device producing

the images on that screen. Explosions

of colour, red, green, yellow as your

heart beats its rhythm, regular you

hope as you submit to the ritual and

she efficiently and unerringly guides

her instruments to fulfill the very 

specific directions your cardiologist

determined to interpret the mystery 

inherent in your ill-performing heart.

 

 

Winter Idyll

 

Light snow flurries spiral gently to the

forest floor long since hidden under a

snowpack from many earlier snowfalls

adding its loft and bright crystalline

beauty to the landscape. This an urban

forest accessed by a widespread community

prepared to delve into the ravine that holds

it in perpetuity for the animals and birds

that thrive within its generous acreage

and the people who live within distance

of access to this natural treasure they all

share. It is where a small proportion of

the population finds itself in search of

nature and tranquility and the opportunity

to feel free and unhampered by the calls

of urban life where it is incumbent upon

them to be pressed for time and distance

oppressing the soul searching for meaning

in their lives. Here they wander among the

trees, along a waterway, clamber the hills

descend the valleys aerating their lungs 

and freeing their limbs to recall of youth

and meet distant neighbours valuing and

searching for solace from the distractions

of their lives. It is where their beloved pets

run free themselves to commune with their

own replenishing their shared optimism in

the existence of the nature of all things.

 

 

Forest Fauna

 

You've noticed, haven't you that in

the summer months the forest holds its

secrets tight, reveals none of the drama

inherent in its habitat for those creatures

who relentlessly hunt as carnivores and

those destined to be their prey themselves

content with browsing, whether on land

in the air or in the waterways coursing

through the forest precincts. The skills

it takes to note the presence of clues

like scattered feathers, an owl's discarded

pellet, the partial pelt of a small furred

animal to interpret the life-and-death

theatre of existence in the forest are not

those of an oblivious visitor. During the

winter months when the forest floor is

steeped deep in snow the threat to life

and limb of small creatures deterred in

their desperate flight from violent carnage

wreaked upon them by fleet-footed

omnivores can be read and deciphered

with far more ease; delicate versus robust

paw prints, the final frantic effort of 

outspread wings leaving their impression

then flown off with up and away, the

tell-tale bright red splotch on pristine white

all relate the silent messages of forest fauna.

 

 

What If?

 

What if -- all you profound and earnest

searchers for that ineffable spark of

evasive knowledge -- the purpose of life is

quite simply existence. Know this: the

Universe owes you no explanation nor

explication. Travel the length of your

journey prepared to discover your own

responses to all you see, feel and will

experience for that response is yourself

alone, we all are unique in our perceptions

and what one person finds insufferable

another will find of interest in surmounting

difficulties to prepare for their place in

the world. Prepare to acknowledge those

moments of pleasure and satisfaction just

as much as those times of bleak suffering.

Never fail to find comfort in your own

sense of being and share it with those you

love instead of seeking counselling and

failing to acknowledge your endowment

of critical cerebral and emotional balance.

 

Take Notice, Ye Cynics

 

The Alpha Pack has convened yet again.

Among the twenty scoundrels in attendance

along with their unctuous on-side cronies

with the collective potential to exercise 

unlimited power to challenge that of our 

creator who can summon earthquakes

volcanoes, tornadoes,  floods and fire to

remind we cowering creatures who it is

invested in command of cowering billions.

There they are in the splendid array of

their feted accomplishments; a litany of

failure by a gathering of egotists whose

self-regard is resolute and impregnable

to criticism for those that do are bereft

of influence, incapable of gathering to

themselves and their cause the tumult

of revolt. The crass and the avaricious

find it expedient to their ends to cling

fast to such leaders while the righteous

and the courageous call all to notice.

Dissatisfaction in governance however 

fails to move the principled intelligent

to the office rank and repugnant with

humiliation. Even for the people by the

people spectacularly failed, leading to 

the hubris-endowed and their ambitions

those least bothered by conscience to

rule, dissemble and assemble in triumph.

 

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.

 

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

 

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?