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Whistling

Whistling

 

Today we need to save the world

Because we don’t know how

We sit in the dark, a fine day for crucifixion

We betray all elements

In chosen ignorance of how to fix things

 

Not to those who know better

Who have the technicalities

Each of us in normalcy must choose

To save the world

Our own heroes in a comic book

And like those stories,

 

Our local universe is at stake

 

C L Couch

 

Here’s News (and a Haibun)

Here’s News (and a Haibun)

 

(1)

 

Here are three news leads from The Guardian:

The United Nations has for the first time signalled its “human rights obligation” over the deadly cholera outbreak in Haiti that has claimed the lives of at least 30,000 people.

‘It’s only working for the white kids’: American soccer’s diversity problem [headline]

Yesterday, a report came out that said more than 1,000 migrants and refugees have died just in the last week while crossing the Mediterranean.

 

(2)

 

Everyone on all sides of things is falling down.  UN peacekeeping.  Soccer, the world’s sport.  Migrants we don’t count who die.  Doesn’t help my own precarious feelings about stability or sanity in the world.  Doesn’t help the fragility in me or mine.  On this side of apocalypse (only frightening for some), what might we save?  In order to retain poetics, I’ve refrained from news of politics today.  I doubt anymore the answer’s there.

 

(3)

 

Black box of the plane

Black box of refugee’s boat

Black box of sea’s depths

K is for Kalliope

K is for Kalliope

 

Transliterated from old Greek,

Eldest and leader of the Muse

Sisters, Muse of song and

Public articulation—in other

Words, speech-delivery

 

She had a son, an artful maker,

Too—he was killed; and his

Mother took his remains to

Enshrine them on Lesbos, an

Ancient isle, which we might

Visit today

 

Were she to sing in our

Parlance and with our take

On life’s matters:

 

I inspire your song and speech

And go unrecognized

 

Most no longer believe that

Mortal skills come from a sacred

Start

 

I might sing again, though first

Would be the labor in mourning

For all I have lost

 

My boy, who was murdered

For envy or rage (I care not

Which) and whose grave

Molders in an island pit bereft

Of laurel leaves

 

Orpheus, as well my son,

Whose sanctioned journey into

Hell yet lost him his wife in

Petty business of Hades and

The underworld’s rule (I

Respect them not)—his life was

Left to sorrow like mine

 

And your interest? Why would

Gods matter to you?  All

Divinity is mitigated in belief,

Mostly unexpressed, that you

Shall save yourselves—

 

Foolish

 

You will need us, still

 

 

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/

Taiwan Earthquake

Taiwan Earthquake

Earthquake in Taiwan
Souls are trapped
In falling buildings
Still falling

I might not last
Through rescue tries,
For my soul must be
In open space

And that’s simply personal

Not rising yet to singe the skin
The surrender of
So many lives

And living the rest:
Not any victim’s future
Understanding that
Life has
Security

World, respond

Save and stay to help,
Rebuilding human sanctity

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