I Strive To Be As The Sapling

I strive to be as the sapling;

Flexible in the path of the raging gale.

The sapling does not struggle against its foe,

It does not stand rigid as an elder,

It bows gracefully and without pretense.

Even in its youth

The sapling knows it could not withstand the fury,

So by yielding it survives unscathed.

This is the wisdom lost to maturity.

With age the sapling becomes increasingly inflexible

Until in time its trunk refuses to bend.

We are not so unlike the simple tree,

Showing great resilience in childhood,

Becoming unwavering and obstinate with age.

Oh what I would not give to be as the lowly sapling.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Destiny (Acrostic)

Dogma plagues our human existence

Erasing common decency–trading it for war .

Souls bought and sold because of inspired word;

Thrown to the wolves by those in sheep’s clothing.

I do not hate religion, I do not deny its inalienable right

Nor do I deny the good which it contains.

Yet zealots pass judgment in the Name of their God–

destroying the lives of others…this I despise.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

An Interminable Succession

Trapped in an interminable succession,

Love, hate,

Happiness, sadness,

Joy, anger

Tolerant, intolerant,

Fear, confidence,

Belief, disbelief.

This cyclone of existence, bleeds me from the inside,

Every ounce of energy expended to maintain equilibrium.

Ups, downs,

Highs, lows,

Gravitating my emotions in tumultuous ways,

Exhausting my spirit to the soul’s core.

I am left a molten mass,

Raw nerves exposed to open air,

Sensitive to every sensation,

Yet helpless to defend.

I guess I really am human after all.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Unwelcome To Our Shores

Burqa, Dashiki, headscarf, turban,

Clothing nor traditions should fear instill.

Forgetting we are children of the melting pot,

Sprawling roots of Sicily, Belfast, Juarez, Berlin,

Many smaller port-of-call,

Spat on by bigots,

Held in contempt.

Amnesia plagued memory lost their father’s land,

Nothing has been learned o’er these many years,

Only the quarry has changed,

The slurs, the stares, the vindictive wit,

Disparate but analogous,

Yet none-the-less degrading.

Unwelcoming the huddled masses with open arms,

Seeing terror in every foreign face,

Like fools believing the rhetoric,

Stereotyping and profiling,

Demonizing difference.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~