Into the Terror

Little band of little people,

separated, not as cream from milk,

but night from day;

angry about what is and isn’t,

fearful of what’s next,

wagering against all hope,

expecting less as victor.

Hatred on a short fuse,

mistrust fully wired,

xenophobia amped to max,

sacrificial lives dehumanized,

calculating rage’s dispersion, contagion,

betting on proliferation.

Surprised, overwhelmed, suffocated

by destruction’s carnage, intensity;

help arrives from four corners,

order, compassion begin,

Gilead’s balm overflows.

Sorting through rubble,

ferreting life’s meaning,

forced inventory of value,

prioritizing future’s map.

Defining moments like waves,

lap our shores methodically,

tumbling smooth jagged edges.

God only knows who will triumph,

terror’s disconnect or holy’s hope.

Just in: Love wins?

© September 2011 Todd Jenkins

Wildflowers

They don't blend in the garden,
rule-following not always a priority.
Tougher-than most,
with their own agenda;
blooming out of season
and often against all odds.

Those who venture into open fields
with eyes wide open
frequently glimpse their stunning glow;
colors, patterns beyond expectation,
surprising life at every turn.

Memories stronger than yesterday
persist in keeping hearts afire,
as hues long-remembered
refuse to fade into the night.

Nature has its own way
of giving us an instant replay;
sometimes it takes our breath away.

The fields are ripe with reminiscence
for those who pay attention.

Have you seen your wildflower lately?

© 2011 Todd Jenkins