Get Your Premium Membership

THE FIRST OF FEBRUARY 2020

Poet's Notes
(Show)

Become a Premium Member and post notes and photos about your poem like Robert Wagner.


This is my visceral response to the horrific travesty of justice that occurred in the United States Senate on January 31, 2020.

Out into the crisp February morn, Sunshine finally frees nature From the long oppressive grip Of the icy, snowy, bitter cold of Grey darkness that has enveloped Both sky and human heart alike. Nature briefly awakens, The small winter birds scatter And chase about the sky and chirp, While the squirrels search and forage For nuts buried in the cold, White layers on the ground. Is it foolish optimism to think, Much less feel, hope? A similar oppressive layer of Enforced grey darkness Has enveloped my nation, As men and women in the Senate, Bereft of a human soul, Feed ferociously on the chumming Of ambition, greed, and power Thrown to them by wealthy despots and bigots. Well did they know the guilt Of the predator occupying the high seat of power. Well did they know the sewage Of corruption and deceit Into which they immersed themselves. Yet, bereft of a human soul, Shaking their fists furiously At the heavens, they curse God To whom they previously pledged fealty. They damn and ban both God and God’s justice From our nation with great solemnity and decorum, Then dance around the Senate chambers With smug smiles of victory on their faces. Accused of blinding justice in our nation, These parasitical, political Pharisees, Cry out with great indignation, as in the story of the man born blind, “Surely, we are not blind!” While the 2000 year old words of Jesus, With the tenacity of tinnitus rings in their ears, “If you were blind, you would not have sinned. But you do see, and your sin remains.” On this cold, crisp winter morn of February, As sunshine dispels the dark greyness That has oppressed nature, I wonder Whether the dark blanket of despair That is now covering our nation Will ever be cast off and the sun Of God’s justice will ever return to our nation? Yet, the birds still chirp And chase around the sky. The squirrels still dig for the treasure They buried in the frozen landscape. Is it foolish optimism to think Much less feel, there is hope? (c) 2020, Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.