Tragedy in Loco Parentis

it becomes a shorthand

a savage synecdoche

for which we have no synonyms

except blood nightmare shred death 

and sinews of sadness singing

an aria without words or melody

 

a broken record

 

Columbine Cleveland Chardon

Red Lake Nickel Mines (Amish)

 

they become a shorthand

these slaughters that stream

one into the other flooding

our jaded memories

Sandy Hook Parkland 

Santa Fe (Texas) Oxford (Township)

Uvalde (now) (this) (again) (AR-15) (again) (kids) (children) (innocents) (once) (again) (thoughts and prayers) (makeshift memorials) (flowers flowers flowers) (teddy bears) (magazines) (again) (clips) (bullets) (this) (now again)

[silence]

sobs cries wails sobs screams cries sobs

[silence]

. . . and then the inevitable onslaught of cliches promises jingoism flag-waving theories speculations loner angry boy boy boy male man young troubled loner rage pent-up why why why NRA July 4 lobbyists money money money marketing male rage against the what the who my rights my rights my rights protect me from me the land of the free

except for the cost

the incalculable cost

[silence]

[  ]

[ . . . ]

Memorial Day

Mother's Day Song

 

Mater Jubilaei / Mother of Joyful Things

This was originally posted on Mother's Day, 2021. I happened upon it either accidentally or providentially, your pick, on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-R8TefGH_4 It's a mystery to me as to who wrote the words. Is it Tosca Donati, the Italian singer and actress featured on the YouTube linked here? Is it an old hymn? After all, it's in Latin, is it not? I fake-translated the Latin words below (I can't remember how I found them) into this poem, from a memory of Latin, undictionaried, laden with a memory of my mother, who died in 2018, at 102. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you. 

 

I look for one

expecting all: sure that more is to come

why expect so little

pray it to your falcon wings

tell me what you ask of me

seeking the core of better things

Mother of joy, joy

of motherhood, Mother of eternity . . . 

Eternal Mother

of all things Everlasting Motherness

circumspicio una
Omnes expectant : certe aliquis veniet
Cur exspectetis mini
dicite vos peregrini.
Quem quaeras mihi dic,
cor meliora petens.
Mater jubilaei, jubilum
matris, Mater aeternitatis...
Aeternitatis mater,
Aeternitas omnium Matrum

Birds of a Feather

stick together

more or less

some more than others

hummingbirds a thousand

and penguins eighty times that

we're talking feathers here

not rathers or druthers, mind you

feathers

birds of feathers

feathers of birds

tough as leathers

smooth as lies

thick as thieves

coats of armour

anti-harmers

so, what of humans

what of us

unfeathered and untethered

flights of fancy

fighting nights of fire

what about us

humans, unwinged and unhinged

skinned alive

or skinned dead

humans, if only we could soar

where would we fly to

who would we be

and how

tell us, oh Phoenix

 

  

The Measure of a Man

for Thomas F. Coman Sr. 

Just one


Of a kindness


Unseen


These days


A mensch among men


Placid amid the storm


Sheltering steadiness


Rising above it all


Anonymous not clamorous 


Good and faithful servant 


Well done


Done well 


Light perpetual 


Shine in silence 


So be it


Be it so


Ever and anon


Shore-ward sailing

Six Feet

remember that yardstick?

(more like two of them)

a metric that mattered

(so we were told)

social distancing

defining where

one aura began

another ended

(I should have said era)

up there

aboveground

not that 6 feet

for god's sake

and then today

or was it yesterday

(time has become so timeless)

as I walked by the school

elementary, so primary

colors, I saw those chalk outlines

body shapes

pastel designs

I am sorry to report

that reminded me 

of a TV crime scene

(a not-very-parenthetical aside

I am told)

all kidding aside

I wish I didn't go there

don't you

I wish we all did not

go there or anywhere

like that 

Ukrainian Rain

on a field of blue and yellow

sky and gold

on plains of wheat

and cities of old

an ancient rain falling

fresh as blood

and raw as meat

a lone baby crying

an aria forgotten

and a mercy unsuckled

a prayer still screaming

war

how foolish we thought

we felt so retro

that war was

just

a thing

an ancient artifact

a boomer anecdote

a cold memory

a hot flash

war so old-fashioned

framed out of history

texts and rubble

sepia photos

black and white

either or

infants' limbs

family shrapnel

silent shards

blood so loud

we thought

that was all over

war and peace

a novel idea

it was just beginning

the recurring nightmare

an endless loop

a rosary of mercy

we need

and want 

a garland of roses

we pray

beseech

beckon

we beg for

peace

now

in our time

this now

this time