Disconnected

48 years on this planet 

and to still feel so... 

disconnected.

It is shameful, really.

Where is my gratitude?

Where is the great love

for the life given me?

Where have I poured 

myself out for others 

beyond need or pain?

That is the disconnect

it seems, to be wrapped

in my own skin, trapped

in a self that is untrue 

or at least in part con-

cocted out of a need to

be needed, and the more

I want, the less I’m wanted.


***

The Scarecrow

The wind tousled his hair 

over the tops of the corn,

perched on a long branch

planted deep in the ground,

bending without breaking.

He was a tall man, a straw man,

a fallacy of argument that was 

remarkably apt (to his great shame).

A scarecrow, friend of black birds,

confidant of disparaged creatures,

character too much like kindling,

the spark of love dwindling...

hung, undone, and unsung.

***

Hope for the World

We start out so small,

so vulnerable,

and if it is possible

to protect that

little one inside of us,

there is hope

for the world, indeed.

***