creation…

his tomorrow’s
were out of focus
as
were
his yesterday’s
and
as for
today
it was hard
to say
since
the steady sound
of
rain
drowned out
the sounds
of
his thoughts
but
his eyes seemed
focused
as he stood
staring
at
a child
wading
bare foot
in cold puddles
pursuing
a makeshift-ship
one small
discarded
plastic bottle
manned by a crew
of
captured black ants
they didn’t seem
to be enjoying
the
adventure
as
he watched
the child’s creation
he wondered
if
god
saw us all
as
captured ants
drifting along
in
a plastic bottle

preparing…

old photos
family
friends
and
lovers
who now
are
foes
assessments
workers
jobs
all
beyond
recall
ink
stains
frayed papers
legal
court
words
justice
blurred
hopes
lost
pulled from files
sorted
and
feed
into
shredder
life’s
end

forensic search for truth…

between
tomorrow’s words
and
what you’ve heard
lies
some
bits of truth
but like
humpty dumpty
what was
will never be
again

hidden in the tall grass…

a young man
from
a neighboring village
came
to ask
bapa dola
how it was
that strangers
to his village
could see
the solution
to problems
that had
confronted the elders
for years
surely
the young man
said
the visitors
must be
wise men
full
of knowledge
bapa dola
said
perhaps
it is not
knowledge
but
the willingness
to
see what is really there
and
to not deny the truth
for
often we hear
but
do not listen
see
but
do not
perceive