Featured Poem: Golden Hope

 

By Lori Zavada
Pensacola Branch

 

It sounds like God hurling boulders to Earth,

but they never land.

I wake to the thunder,

and think of you.

 

Blasting bombs

Rumbling tanks

Cracking rifles

Rat-a-tat machine guns

in a smoky, snow-covered war zone.

 

A contrast to your bright blue skies,

waving fields of wheat,

sunflower head wreaths.

And still, Ukraine is united in the presence of golden hope.

 

A woman cradles her large dog in one arm,

a small purse slung over her shoulder.

It’s all she can manage.

She runs, drops to the ground for cover, runs, drops again.

 

My dogs lie curled up in my warm, dry bed.

 

A child clutches her teddy bear at the train station,

hungry and tired, she presses on,

unsure if she’s afraid,

or reassured by her mother’s tight grasp.

 

My nephew wakes to the cereal of his choosing,

begrudging another school day.

 

A young boy, peach fuzz on his tight jaw,

speaks proudly of his father,

who stayed behind to fight.

A small tear escapes and streams down his rosy cheek.

 

An American student is arrested

for having an AK-47 at high school.

 

A young couple from the countryside of Poland,

takes in women and children,

converts their home into a school,

provides food, warmth, a sense of normalcy.

 

A young American woman is arrested

for shoving an 87-year old lady to her death.

 

A father with deadpan eyes

bravely patrols his city, foreign object in-hand,

a stranger to this exercise, but resolved

to protect his family, his neighbor, his country.

 

An American man is arrested for shooting five sleeping, homeless men.

 

An unshaken young president recalls the blue skies,

the wheat fields, the sunflowers,

pleads for his people before watchful allies,

leaders united by bloodshed, arrested  by evil.

 

Your flag waves in my mind,

and I now see,

the blue skies, the wheat fields, the sunflowers,

golden hope,

precious and valuable.

 

Standing in your shadow,

we are capable of so much more.

 

The midnight thunder fades,

God is finished feeding my land,

but in yours, the bombs don’t stop,

I can’t get you out of my head.

and I pray –

for your people,

and for mine.

 

15 comments

  1. Andrea says:

    Thanks, Lori, for this thought-provoking poem. The contrasts are so sad. I’m so thankful for the freedom and bounty of our country and wish those blessings on those who are deprived and on those others who don’t appreciate our our abundance.

  2. Andrea Walker says:

    Lori, this is indeed a strong and thought-provoking poem. Your words make us stop and think how we take our freedom and privilege for granted. Thank you!

  3. Claire A. Massey says:

    This powerful poem prompts us to take a hard, unflinching look in the mirror and to move beyond expressing mere empathy from what is no longer our own, “safe” distance.
    Thank you, Lori, for this strongly evocative and skillfully wrought poem.
    Claire Massey
    NLAPW Poetry Editor

  4. Bridget Dean says:

    What an incisive poem! It reveals everything we take for granted unjustly – reminds me to care for everything all the time, to appreciate the goodness, not to squander & feel fortunate enough to be haunted by our concern for others less fortunate. (there but for the grace of god…) Thanks

  5. Mikki Root Dillon says:

    Wow! How wonderfully written as a picture of the world we live in today! Much to think about, fellow American women!

  6. Marlene Klotz says:

    This wonderful poet has expressed exactly how I feel when I think about the world we are living in.

  7. Judith McGinn says:

    Magnificent comparisons of very different lives that exist in our time. It also makes one remember how lives are changed overnight when one power hungry man transforms ordinary people going about their everyday to overnight running for their lives. Very moving poem.
    Judith McGinn, President of CNY Branch

  8. Marguerite Marie Moore says:

    Lori’s poem provides visual and contrasting images in my mind about the situations people are enduring and how we in the U.S. are blessed.

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