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)
(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
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
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
clcouch123 
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