Sandpiper Pausing Once Again


What times are these
where hearts run hot and cold,
ceaseless conscience alerts
reminding us of 9/11 steel girders fallen prone
entombments sealed beneath voices remembered well.

Compassion's lens peers through
this fallen metropolis of micro-flesh,
this glass transparency
engulfed by forsaken smoke and dust,
embraced darkness recalled.

And still today…

Clock hands stop,
media rushes to air-time,
fearful of being out of date.

Yet…

Only silence remembers
fused tragedies,
crumbling worlds,
bodies falling,
hearts broken.

Yes…

Learning comes hard

as the world’s violence breaks the silence,
with cacophonous pandemonium,
empty shell casings bouncing,
pop-pop-pop-pop-pop,
children's pleading,
a teacher’s bravery,
first responder's sorrow,
parents traumatized,
grievance everywhere.

Still…

In America sterility reigns,
Washington defers,
barbarity's abyss extends,
the next tragic moment to define,
insensitive that irresponsible behavior
is destined to spawn new disastrous memories
awakening vanquished yesterdays.

Like a video game of archaic gulosity,
certain chameleon passions remain insatiable,
indecisive apathy-driven appetites
fueling congressional obstruction.

While at a distant shore…

A sandpiper pauses,
aware floating atop societal trade winds
remains the echoed violence,
the unredeemable screams,
seeming to be never forgotten,
even by Nature’s simple creations.

Like other creatures
of blood that flows honestly,
eyes that see,
ears that hear,
where hearts remaining conscious
know not cravenness.

For even at that faraway sandbar…

The sandpiper probes away,
its discovered sustenance hard fought,
its needs remaining small,
its wants nonexistent.

Does it know the why?

Might it be partly due to congressional appetites
of power and greed,
sated only with constituency expectation,
indulging in anticipated “midterm” gluttonous reward,
thinking the next societal tragedy but finger food,
while the next gun-sales-windfall,
the rejection of climate change,
the struggle to bar refugees
merely a payback for re-election,
suits answering the next challenge of moral impotency with
the tired echo of…

“Not a problem.”

“Not a problem.”