Guilt

The sea of open pain that lies between
"This isn't who we are, this isn't us"
And "this isn't who we wish that we had been"
Swallows whole expeditions without fuss.
"We don't do this." Well, actually, we did
We know (we knew, we always know) it's wrong
But that alone cannot and should not rid
Our souls of having done it. We can long
To live upon that blessed, far off shore
But oceans are not crossed by mere desire.
We must set sail: be better, and do more,
And take the fault and blame, however dire.
We may fall seasick as we turn and toss
But we must stomach it, or else not cross.

I Lift My Lamp

They didn't break the law. That shouldn't matter
Since they're still human, and we ought to care
About them all. But kindness tends to shatter
When pressed too hard, as we forget what's fair
And fall back on what's easy. Either way
They had the right to come, the right to flee,
The right to seek a future from today
(The same right we declared so holily
Two hundred years ago). They did no wrong.
We did. We do. And we continue to.
If we're a country where they don't belong
We need to change, to pledge ourselves anew
To our ideals, which we have failed before.
That's no excuse: we must and can do more.

Abortive

A woman's body ought to be her own;
Our history has struggled with this fact.
A fetus in her womb, however grown,
Is not a person, and it cannot act;
A father (and a mother) gives to her
A life, an education, and a home
She may owe them her love, but I am sure
She isn't owned despite a shared genome;
A husband, bound to her by vow and ring,
Should be a partner in the life they choose
But though they might agree on everything
He isn't her: and this should not be news.
There ought to be no need, but let's review:
A human woman is a human too.

Hello World

I find that I can write whatever here:
My words will never find the light of day
Since nobody reads sonnets anyway
My freedom is now comfortingly clear.
I can write nonsense, folderol, or queer
Misshapen things formed from my verbal clay
That crack in firing. Metaphors can stray;
It doesn't matter where they choose to veer.
Unedited, my words evaporate
And by their residue I know them pure
They leave no mark behind to indicate
I ever wrote them. And yet I am sure
Deep in my soul, their echoes resonate
In empty chambers where my heartstrings stir.

Manifest

Frontiers aren't empty. But they never were.
The basic concept that the West was Won
Requires it to be won from someone;
The New World's only new if you refer
To those who didn't know it. It's a slur
To those who did: implies that they are un-
Or less-than-human, because everyone
Who mattered was a connoisseur
Of only other lands. Columbus came
And with him death. Plagues and guns will kill
But even then the land is never void.
The bodies of the people thus destroyed
And even more those who survive it still
Deserve a presence, power, and a name.

Fear

Death is, they tell me, part of human life
A destination we cannot avoid
The best that we can do is quiet strife
And keep an even keel before the void.
Some say we linger on beyond our death
In something like a paradise or hell;
I fear their claims are merely wasted breath
For 'til we go ourselves, we cannot tell.
Each day could be my last, though I must doubt
That this one is particularly so
As yet I've given neither up nor out
But maybe that's the way that I will go
Merely exhausted from an endless day:
And who would really want another way?

(P)residency

You know, you cannot run for President.
The race will take the same amount of time
No matter how you go. If you are bent
On the becoming, you will slink like slime
Oozing towards Iowa. You cannot run:
Once you have entered, everything you do
Is ours, no longer yours. There is no fun;
The relaxations you're accustomed to
We will now judge. So you are not your own;
You cannot run a country otherwise.
Even when you think you are alone
The state will see you with eternal eyes.
The next two years are bliss, with joy mixed in
Compared to what will happen if you win.

Notre Dame

I did not weep to see it burn;
I wept to see the others see;
To watch as children sadly learn
That nothing keeps eternally;
To see their elders, who believed
They had forever to behold
What now is lost, be subtly grieved
And wish they were no longer old
Not for themselves, for pains or aches,
But so the world might be renewed
If only for their children's sakes
So they too might have someday viewed
The buttressed roof, the lovely spire
As they had been before the fire.

April Showers

Just as the winter melts into the spring,
When daffodils begin to push up stalks,
When everyone is glad of everything
And days are finally long enough for walks;
Just as the summer seems around the bend
Whispering promises of life and light,
When what we've suffered finds at last an end
And lawns and trees are green again, not white;
Just as the seasons turn and make us merry,
And hope sneaks up to catch us unawares;
As we forget to be forever wary,
Putting aside our well-worn winter cares
The clouds arrive and punish us with rain
For thinking spring brought pleasure without pain.

Beg

My dog does not know how to beg
That doesn't mean she doesn't try
But pawing me upon the leg
Is ineffective: wonder why?
She has the puppy eyes, of course,
As any pup must, by default;
But easily resorts to force
To crack her food's resistant vault
Which would make sense, except she weighs
Just fourteen-fifteen pounds or so
So force from her merely conveys
The message of her deep-felt woe.
At least she doesn't bark so far
For which we all most thankful are.