The Gem in the Dirt
Another loss, yes,
And a gain,
The same thing,
Gain and loss, the same thing.
Sit here, and watch
Me stepping onto the stage,
Father, the stage, on which my foolish deeds,
I act out,
Mother, the fan and audience applauds,
Standing ovation, to the wisdom the foolishness contains
That no one else sees
Siblings guess, friends pretend
Their arms in the air, swaying
Shedding dry tears.
Mother tears bounteous
Of knowing love and sorrow,
The gem in the dirt.
Stage steady,
Thanklessly being.
Go on,
Author the play you are,
The stage and the audience abound,
Some more cheers and hand-sways,
Holy or disingenuous,
Bless them and play on.
©2017 Nsamu Moonga
What we lack knowing
What we lack seeing
What we lack acknowledging
Something as simple so great
How do we forget?
How do we compare
How could we see in a different way?
Leads us to say
Thank you God for giving me hands
Hands; those are so powerful in good
And so destructible in evil
With everything we do
With everything we establish
With everything we make
Is and only by the help of our hands
How do we play the guitar?
How do we swim the ocean?
How could we draw a painting?
How could we eat and drink?
How could we clean and ran and play?
Without help
With no hands
How could we practice our hobbies?
How could we defeat our enemies?
How could we study and learn?
How could we cook and wear?
How could we write, just write
A letter for the ones we love
To say just say
I miss you
How could we do anything with no hands?
Without the gift from God we so thanklessly use?
How could we not say?
For now we should at least say
Thank you God for all that you made!
Black shrouds blue
a dingy hue
This greedy minscus constricts us
~~~Mother Earth's shameful eyepatch~~
A gull's squak gurgled crude
chirping 89 octane birdsongs
forever grounded by fossil fuel fettered feathers
sharp eyes, glazed over, searching the horizon
for a savior from this senselessness
Feed the steely beasts,
produced in fleets,
chrome teeth and audible horns,
the black blood we gave them
and thirst for thanklessly.
Their evolution halted by prophets of profit
We extract that which we cannot put back
veins spew petroleum poison
hemmorhaging
Cuts bleed. Logically
Yet here stands man,
knife in hand
confounded by healing our wounded land
as figureheads foist fingers frenetically
***Inspired by Poetry Soup's Gulf Oil Spill contest!!