GRACE
I guess now I’m old, my idea
of a good time is watching ducks –
the shoveler, merganser, cinnamon teal,
widgeon as they dip and glide, dip
and dive over this glassy water, this
serene scene. Suddenly a pair upset
by geese decides to take flight
tip-tip-toeing and tap-dancing, then
flapping for a few hundred yards before
clumsily crashing down again, goodgod
I love it when they fly
so awkward and unbalanced
so unsure with the landing gear
and then suddenly, they are down again
gliding, leaving whispers of wake behind
in gray waters
makes me think of grace
how every time you manage to find it
you stumble your way in
GIVE ME A POET
Give me a poet in dangerous times –
our most powerful ammunition,
their words seeping in with the slow urgency
of seabound snow-melt. Think
of all the ones who were murdered,
exiled, tortured, body and
soul sundered for all time
the bitter aftertaste being that
you cannot stop a voice
Think of the ones who have died
for truth, the inescapable beauty
of illusion winging them to another world
with all the words they have never spoken,
all the faces of hope, the pitifully
ironic glow of warm sunrise
on a battlefield
Poems on this page are copyrighted by Beth Wood and have been published by Mezcalita Press, LLC.
THE DEBT
I am in debt to my spirit
I took out a loan and I have not
paid it back
I have mistreated my body, which is
also on loan
I have misused my heart, which belongs
only to me
I have said things to myself that I would never say to another person,
animal, or (in most cases) even an inanimate object
I have bought into the hype
I have danced to the wrong music
I have refused to slow down because
stillness hurts
I have looked away
I have taken from others what I could not
give myself
I have bargained with tears
I am human
I want to pay it back.
