Member Poem

Waves crash upon the shore,
clouds chase the horizon,
carrion birds circle,
colors bleed upon the canvas,
one unto another.

Ink spills, sweat pours,
the brown, delta waters flow.
A man in a white robe
spews ancient hate from the land
of my forebears.
Another in a Baltimore,
with raised fist,
shouts more of the same in opposite.
Neither speak for me.

Oil dilutes the water,
black gold drives the economy,
holds sway over policy.
The executive orders, the roughneck drills,
wheels turn.
I do not blame them for exploiting
needs/wants/desires but
slick liquids and slick suits do not speak for me.

Waves crash upon the shore,
clouds chase the horizon,
carrion birds circle,
colors bleed upon the canvas,
one unto another.

Blood oozes from the wound,
the gutters of Chicago congeal.
Mothers cry,
a plastic talking head blames a tool,
refuses to address a cause.
More useless laws, freedom suppressed,
the fist clenches tighter,
death seeps out between the fingers.
The titillated teeth on TV do not speak for me.

A man behind a pulpit
preaches out of context morality,
teaches exclusion, judgment
and damnation. He seems to forget
love and healing and caring.
He raises his voice and pounds the podium,
claims he speaks for God,
but he does not speak for me.

Waves crash upon the shore,
clouds chase the horizon,
carrion birds circle,
colors bleed upon the canvas,
one unto another.

The politicians are already drunk
on their potential power,
convinced of the absolute necessity
of their convictions, their change, their control.
They take up the mantle of left and right,
claim righteous titles of conservative, progressive;
none of them speak for me.

You. You do not speak for me,
nor do I for you,
But, I hear you. I hear your plea
for simple understanding,
empathy perhaps, peace perchance.
Do you hear me my brother?
For I swear,
I swear I am trying to hear you.
I am trying.

Waves crash upon the shore,
clouds chase the horizon,
carrion birds circle,
colors bleed upon the canvas,
one unto another.