poetry

unbalanced on the equinox

unbalanced on the equinox

the black campground studded by flames
like my inner landscape
raging from the unkindness one son inflicts on the other
and my inability to create peace
in our little truck
in our extended family
in our town

no it seems we all want to tear each other apart
enjoy that crestfallen look on the other’s face
when we betray them with disdain
just like me
unable to see the 21-month-old I made cry to sleep
his bucket never able to be filled since
the payoff of sleep so not worth the damage done
sleep I reject every night now anyway
I’ve no idea how to make it better
only know to limit the pain I myself inflict

unbalanced today
I lashed out and liked it
calling him out on his selfishness
not caring that each word I spat would undoubtedly
have the opposite effect
driving stake after stake between us
with each word I said

there is a dark energy
in our world of Schaafs
we take
and there’s never enough
how can I keep this from going out in the world
how can I possibly shift it
we keep repeating the mistakes of the past
our humanity diminished each go around

the Dalai Lama says
be kind whenever possible
it is always possible

but I don’t know how to respond kindly to unkindness
in a way that won’t lead to more

I don’t know how to read two books at once
sometimes I doubt I have enough love to give
sometimes the relief of peace seems as elusive
as drinking from the shimmer
of the highway’s mirage

poetry

On Edge at Mosi-oa-Tunya

On Edge at Mosi-oa-Tunya

  1. The falls.
  2. Afternoon sun paints rainbows.
  3. Fish eagle pair wheels about the colored band.

What more could there be?
patience
and
peace

poetry

closure

closure

beat your swords into plowshares
Isaiah says
in Colorado it’s different

first, poison the land while smelting your swords
so no person may call it home
then wait
for the weapon of choice to change
the killing to grow more efficient
the boom to bust
and the other beings to return

the hooved and winged and furred folk
don’t know about sarin gas
or plutonium’s halflife
they see only a quiet open space to be

today we pile out at Camp Hale
a fairly upbeat installation
known for fresh-faced skier boys
and I’m not thinking of death

the kids skitter off down the dirt road
and I stop at the sign
eyeing a closure
wondering what wildlife
we might be lucky enough to see

but it’s not like that
ASBESTOS
no human entry
human health closure

they’re too far to call back
and I’m not positive
where we are on the map

the whole area’s off-limits
to off-trail use, too
and when the beavers’ handiwork
forces us off the asphalt
I wonder –
unexploded ordnance?

I hold my breath
not knowing what safe looks like here
cursing the military-industrial complex
feeling conflicted about these
contaminated but public lands,
like Rocky Mountain Arsenal
and Rocky Flats
with their innocent burrowing owls
and elegant jumping mice
still greenwashing the worst of our nature

I don’t want plowshares left even
I just want to beat all those swords
to dust
proxies for the men who profit from them

mostly I want to stop worrying about where we step
and what we might breathe
just recklessly take in this blue sky
and bands of white clouds
without having to think
about the terrible things
we do to our own