Tag: truth

Everything has a beginning

Everything has a beginning

Everyone has a beginning.
On the tree of life we start
As too green leaves
Bright, yet fragile
Sprouting upon wobbly limbs,
Reaching for the sun in the sky.

It is a beginning.

With spring, comes strength.
Buds burst forward.
We are steadier,
As the winds bend us,
Rain revives us, and
The early years melt away.

It is the middle.

Blossoms slowly open
And the days warm—
So do we—Friendships mature
And the paths we’ve taken,
Grow more complex and take many turns.
Roads branch out in too many directions.

The sun beats down upon us and we bask in the freedom of it.

When fall comes, the
Roots of your past conjoin with each other.
They enables and entrap, and
As pages of life fall to the ground,
A multi-colored array of experiences
Scatter to the wind.

This is the wisdom bought and paid for with life.

Winter settles in and wraps
Around you as your roods grow
More and more tangles together
Until by spring again,
They have become one mass,
Showing lifetime of information,
Decisions made and choices taken.

In the beginning, spring
Brought us together with
The subtle beauty of a Cherry tree
From beneath the snow:
Its blooms peeking up
Begging to grow,
And the lifecycle continues
Until the last petal falls.

 

G Skye 2016/2017

 

 

Poem – Enough. (Draft, 2018)

Poem – Enough. (Draft, 2018)

Enough.

I remember the protests of Vietnam.
Barely, but they resonated
in the conversations around me,
that I couldn’t read.

This, at the beginning of my life.

Democracy apparent as people
gathered to protest a
War that wasn’t called a war.


What is war, then?
This conflict of words that clashes with
expectations and fences
with our vision of a free and
powerful country seems to ignore
many of the responsibilities that power entails.

I remember standing at the steps of
City Hall in my hometown
protesting the Gulf War.
I was 18—
Straddling that life moment between
childhood and adulthood.

I remember the flash of cameras, the
press of bodies,
people shouting rhythmic rally cries, and I
remember feeling self-conscious
as words or protest left my own lips.

When the pushing and shoving started,
I let the movement propel me to the
fringe of the crowd and asked
“Why am I here?”,
“Why do I protest?”

I had no answer,
so, I quietly walked away and
back to my dorm room.
Sitting on my bed in silence
I pondered my freedom of choice.

When planes dove– like birds from the sky,
their targets not just our people, but
our sense of national security, too,
it left it bleeding away on the
the foundation of our country.
War took a more terrorizing and
sinister meaning than before.

The game has changed.
Life moved forward, though.
A different, less comfortable life,
But we adapted,
Secured ourselves with the mantle of power
And moved on.

And then, my world stopped.

Everything paused.

The pedestal of hope and security cracked.

Thirty-two lives gone,
One, gone, oh god—
There’s that bittersweet
memory of a past love,
shattered. The place in your mind that
past loved ones live, where you know they are safe,
goes quiet–
extinguished in an instant with
the sharp repeat of the gun echoing in the air.

The veil of security, that belief that
‘it couldn’t, wouldn’t happen’ to anyone you know
ripped away.
And all along with it, the echoes continue.
You can’t speak, for fear you might scream
and never stop.

The silence as the protests and outcries
are ignored slowly engulfs you.

And then more, and more, and so many more.

Children are dying.
Young lives cut to the ground
Before they ever had a chance to become–
Just a hook on the wall, where a
small coat still hangs, never to be worn again.

“Where is the War now?” we asked,
ready for battle.
“We must fight it, give me the enemy.”

And yet the world just kept turning
as the dust settled on the desks and in the
empty halls.

My son was born, and I let the love
of him wrap around me in a cocoon
of family and newness.
For a time, that sense of security returned.
And then it was time for him to go to school.

We have had wars and conflicts. We
proclaim to fight a never-ending
War on Drugs.  Yet,
we quietly walk away as
war is waged by our citizens

…on our Children.

This is more insidious than war.
This is our children dying
while the government that
swears to protect us,
brandishes empty promises like a
sword missing its edge.

It protects our “freedom”, more than it protects our lives.

It protects the guns, more than our children.

We have to fight this internal
War of indifference.
As war is a battle between different powers,
the time to take back the
power of our country is now.

The power must shift and the
children of this country should be our first priority.

Our future depends on it.
This is a battle worth fighting.
This is why protests exist and
why compromise is king only when
progress is made

Again, hearts bleed on the day when it
Should be candy and flowers scattered across the floor,
not the crimson stains of horror and despair.

This time, the children are rising and calling for
change, because no one was listening.

Why is no one listening?
They keep dying and no one is
Heeding their screams.
They keep asking us for help,
to keep them safe, and
No one is heeding their call.
They keep praying and
no one is hearing their prayers over the
“Ching, ching” of political favors.

The children in Parkland stood up, though, and said,

“ENOUGH!”

Did you hear them?
Did you see them?
Do you understand that this is
the battle you need to fight today?
This is the stand you take?

And today, when nineteen more perish,
trapped in a room, no way out,
suddenly silenced.

Do you hear them?
Do you understand their sacrifice?
Can you continue to stomach your inaction?

Is it enough, yet?

Before more gentle voices are silenced…

Again.

-G. S. Skye 14 March,2018

Edited 26 July 2021 and 24 May 2022

I Am in Awe

I Am in Awe

Words reached out to me, caressed my soul
With the eloquent fingers of deep thought.
Would that I could put forth my own words
Phrases that could give admiration
For a talent possessed.

My heart is touched and I find myself
At a loss, for words are inadequate.

Lest I speak and say something inadequate,
I find myself turning to you, a twinkle in my eye
Giving light to something deeper and as intimate
As souls bound together by fate and promise.

My hands glide up to your face,
Every line already known to me,
The feel as welcome as a whispered
Word of love, for within each touch
I speak my heart and my own.

Your words bring me to my knees.
Within them, I find hope,
Faith, and the most inspiring truth of love.


1999/2005