May 28, 2020 (Poem)

My mom's birthday is Sunday. One of my best friend's birthday is the following Wednesday. My sisters and I have gathered gifts for mom, so she should be getting them pretty soon. I'll be swinging by my friend's house after work to wish her well. She also graduated college with her Bachelors this past month.  So much good is happening, right? Stores and restaurants are opening back up and the streets are becoming full again. No, things aren't as normal as before, but that's good. We get to start over, at least that's what I thought...until George Floyd's death. Yes, I have my own opinion on the matter, but that's not important. All I see is rage, disappointment, and tiredness. I see a repeat of the past, sending a promising future into pending mode. I see rioters breaking glass and taking televisions. I see protesters holding signs and yelling towards policemen with guns and shields. COVID-19 has killed thousands while sin is killing us by the millions. There's still division. There is still unwanted deaths. Our kids are asking questions and Google appears to be more reliable than our truth, for the world rips apart hope every second. This poem is just my response to that. 

May 28, 2020

I see drive-by birthday wishes

and graduation recognition,

curbside smiles and hope extended

from hand waves and virtual hugs.

I see kids screaming for wet-grass-play

and bike-riding down trails

where turtles listen to running water,

I see open beer bottles and panting dogs

with portable bowls once collapsed

in their owner’s bag.

I see cars waiting for lunch,

zooming to outlets, collecting summer trends

and trying on happiness in dressing rooms.

I see rain through the screen door,

slanting through the trees, drumming on the leaves,

singing to my ears as I nap away the lyrics.

I see babies in the parks and bees in the sky,

the sting of heat leaves one’s tongue swollen

for medicinal ice cream in a waffle cone .

I see everything coming alive,

no longer dead under case numbers

and growing hysteria.

I see God’s paragraph on the skin of my wife,

reminding me to love more , fear less.

Time only has space for one, so choose.

I see a neck under knee,

a man under arrest,

a cop under surveillance,

a life under law ,

a city under fire.

I see 1991, four officers

with a few sticks,

turning a man

into a mutt in the streets.

I see every second on film

catching monsters

in the act. I see something changing,

yet nothing at all.