What’s sequestration
A fancy word for stupid
Kids on the playground
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
No one hears the child
Cries of hunger are ignored
Food is tossed away
The richest country on earth
Isn’t there enough for all
~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~
By D. R. DiFrancesco
~~~~~~
Tree lined streets draped in white lights
Shine like so many stars in the heavens
Shop windows with edges frosted
Frame the season in all it’s glory
~~
Boys, with their noses pressed to the glass
Breath leaving an innocent fog obscuring their vision
Electric trains guarded by toy soldiers
Smiling wide eyed observers left speechless with anticipation
~~
Little girls drawn to sparkling blue eyes of dolls that cry Mama
Bathing them in hugs and kisses
Joy of the holiday blushing their cheeks
The sweet innocence of the child
~~
Santa Clause greets his loyal believers with a knowing grin
Rosy red cheeks and a beard of snow his calling card
Ho Ho Ho echos above the noise of the crowd
Signaling the approach of Christmas day.
~~
Sidewalks filled with holiday shoppers
The joyous sound of carolers fills the frosty air
Good cheer is the calling of the day
Were it only that these feelings would last throughout the year
~~
Reminiscing on past Christmas’ brings such happiness
With simpler times came fewer expectations
The latest toy or game was less important
Instead family, friends and the true meaning of Christmas became the greatest gifts of all
By D. R. DiFrancesco
~~~~~
To rationalize this cycle of unfettered hate
Would only lend credence to the insane
The innocence of children left to a horrible fate
Snuffed out by a killer’s reasons arcane
~~
We weep for them, for what we have lost
A future taken in an instant never to grow up
Never to have know them, an insurmountable cost
Terrible and tragic their loss we never can make up
~~
We light our candles and say a prayer
Hoping their Maker greets them with open arms
For all we can do is stand united and show them that we care
While trying to figure out how to protect others from Satan’s harm
~~
Who could have known or perhaps have foretold
What tragedy would await these children so pure
Our own we’ll pull close and tightly hold
To be confident they safe I am sure
~~
Thou shalt not kill a commandment most true
May this murderer burn in eternal hell
For you’ve taken from us so much more than you knew
In a moment of silence we toll the bell
~~
We stand with the mothers and fathers who weep
Tears that cannot bring their babies home
Never again to lay them down to sleep
Their hearts laid bare, broken and alone
~~
What more can I do but say sorry and grieve
For a loss no one can ever justify
I drop to my knees and beg their souls to take leave
And with mourning and sadness say goodbye
A window,
Like any other window,
Panes separate reality from fiction,
Anonymity, my closest friend.
The sidewalk,
Crowded with actors in this play,
Passers by looking up,
I’m part of the backdrop,
Important to the scenery,
Insignificant to the story,
But at least I’m still on stage.
I watch and listen,
Taking in the hustle and bustle outside,
So cliche’ yet so relevant,
The horns, the taxis,
Rushing to get to God knows where,
All to make another dollar.
People scramble,
Suits and ties, bohemians and homeless,
Sharing the same life on the streets,
Avoiding eye contact,
Avoiding making it personal
Too afraid of feeling empathy for those around them.
The children,
Double-dutch and hopscotch,
Brings back memories of simpler times,
Things weren’t so complicated back then,
Fire hydrants to beat the summer heat,
Careless and carefree were the names of the game.
My hands to glass,
Breath fogging my lens to the world,
Wishing I could be part of the show,
Instead of just a prop,
Destined to remain alone,
A fish in this fishbowl I call home.
A window,
Like any other window,
Panes separate reality from fiction,
Anonymity, my closest friend.
She is gone now,
Weeks have passed,
Shock is no more.
Resigned to the fact that we won’t see her again,
We won’t share coffee around the kitchen table,
Won’t share meals at the holidays,
Won’t see the warm smile,
Won’t see the pride in her eyes at our little accomplishments.
Grandmothers are someone taken for granted,
They were always there,
From our beginning,
Naively we think that they will never leave.
Still something deep in our hearts knows its a lie,
We lie to ourselves because its easier than facing the truth.
The status quo easier to take than the pain,
But nothing can stay the same.
Parents become Grandparents,
Children, parents,
The eternal cycle repeats like a palindrome.
I don’t pretend to know what lay beyond this fragile life,
We pray to, hope for, obsess about an unseen God,
Holding steadfast to our faith,
Grasping with clenched fists to the fabric of what’s left of our existence,
Knowing that in time, we to, will meet our maker,
Whomever we conceive our maker to be.
In this, our soul finds consolation,
Finding peace in our belief in the unknowable,
Finding relief in the belief that this world is just the beginning,
That eternal life is not a myth,
But instead a promise of something greater,
Something greater than anything created in our mortal imaginations.
In this hope,
We find comfort.
In this hope,
We find peace.
As we pay our final respects,
In this hope,
You will not be forgotten.
Instead,
In this hope of heaven,
We say goodbye.