Enough is Enough

When is Humanity Going to Get That We’re All in This Together?

Posts Tagged ‘orpheus’

Spring stump after storm

Posted by majutsu on May 23, 2010

Dead tree, lightning struck
Holds busy ants working in spring
Scattered mist of life within.

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The Chains that Bind – philosophical doggerel

Posted by majutsu on November 14, 2009

To break the chains that bind

Thracian Girl carrying the Head of Orpheus on his Lyre, by Gustave Moreau

A bird sings in the morning light
four chirps and a brief silence, a blight
of melody, let us not be tied to hate or like
or black or white
or day or night.
Let the crescent moon ring forth its reflected sunlight
of our working hands or running feet alight.
with the startling quakes that course our body when
pealed thunder strikes.
Unison voices singing together like
school-children
stopping a goal at a soccer match, bright
with red faced determination,
to love, to breathe,
to feel the chill wind race up our backs,
against our futile sleeves
that struggle against the sleep and cold,
against rain and lassitude that odd
determination to believe
in this human face
a young girl’s smile of slight relief
a small boy’s clenched fist
To overthrow that prickly wreath,
that tyranny of thoughtlessness.
The right to force our way
through walls of hate,
that sunrise on a morning hill -the curious belief
no matter how small
that we can overcome the division and strife
between here and there and somehow meet
in this common journey.
That staff pounding on the ground
like an unshaken heartbeat,
a steady knock of reason at the feet
of our those stone human statues, closed hearts walled off
with disbelief
in the magical, the transcendent,the over-
coming of that which cannot be.
That new dawn, the era of every greased
hard-working chin, piped veins pumping
through every flexed arm. The hope that we
can rise above what we are in pieces
in someone’s child’s half-peeled scalp to seek
that golden handshake or stolen kiss.
A tomorrow that shakes without boundaries,
without age , gender, or color.
Unsteady as an aspen tree
or a wave of wind through some new crop of wheat.
A tomorrow that comes with love,
union and belief
that those who do not now dare now share our tongue
might someday speak
tomorrow’s orange glow
of sonorous peace.

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