Power

why isn’t greed taboo?
why don’t we shun those who flaunt extravagant wealth
the way we shun convicts and felons?

why isn’t lying taboo?
why don’t we cast out those who tell untruths
the way we cast out the poor, the disabled, the elderly?

why isn’t failure to serve the public a taboo?
why don’t we ruin the lives of crooked cops and politicians
the way we ruin the lives of sex workers and immigrants?

why doesn’t society stand up for itself?
why don’t we the people have enough empathy
to stand up and say “that’s wrong”?

where did we lose ourselves?
where did we send our hopes and futures and dreams
with barely a whisper of dissension?

what do we do now?
what we’ve always done: remember that the power is ours
we merely have to reach out

and take it

Rest

It’s a pocket of sunlight

through an old, weathered window,

dappling warm and inviting on the bedspread,

an easy place to spend a waking dream.

It’s a storm at night,

rumbling thunder singing low and captivating,

as the pitter patter of the rain

echoes in the dancing shadows on the wall.

It’s a warm winter morning

with glittering snow between the trees,

the dusting of white lustrous and fresh

burying the secrets

of all the days before it.