Across A Divided Sky

Divisions and decisions.

Ominous clouds of utter blackness,
Billowing in their ranks,
March across the low horizon
Like artillery, soldiers, tanks.
They move in angry opposition
With malice thru and thru
Against the sky’s content condition
Of golden, gilded blue.
And those who watch the signals
See signs from up on high,
Painted in prophetic vision
Across a divided sky.

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When It Ends

Author’s Note: To be clear, I do not think that the current difficulties we are facing signify the end of the world! However, the disruption to normal life caused me to remember these thoughts I jotted down a couple of years ago. Though at first this poem may seem disheartening, at a time when many things seem out of our control, what is in our control is who we become. And that is encouraging indeed.

Who will you be when it ends? Photo by Wendelin Jacober.

How will it be when it ends,
    When it ends . . .
How will it be when it ends—
When Hell is unleashed and with murder contends;
How will it be when it ends?

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One day perhaps. . . Photo by Pixabay.

I long for a place free of anger—
Where hate does not exist.
I wish for the day when death is done
And loved ones are never missed.
I pray for sharing unity
Where gone is haughty waste;
I hope for clear direction
To heal our reckless haste.
And with things turned so ugly,
With all hope lost it seems,
Sometimes I catch a glimpse of somewhere
When I close my eyes to dreams.

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