In the year in which democracy
Was mislaid and words forbidden
The year in which the seas roiled
And the forests turned to ash
Too few recognized the dark labyrinth
Lulled as they were with need or greed
These days akin to man’s darkest hour
History others may one day read about
Still, each day purples in the morning sun
The transformation as sudden as daybreak
For, unknown, unbidden, the future
Could change, the devil, the deep blue sea
The solstice nears, the planet revolves
As the color purple once came from mollusks
From mucus secreted by a spiny snail
We live with magic, with mystery and hope
But hope is not enough
Tyrants surround us, always and all ways
Our own slovenly aristocracy enriching itself
Abetted by those who will lose the most
Chapter upon chapter, verse upon verse
What will you let them take away
Before your comfort zone is breached
And the shorthand of civilization unwritten
While those without have even less
The men in suits, their ambitions breed
But they are not the only ones with power
As long as day returns, in this pivotal time
We must be the pendulum and the light
For what sustains requires more than words.
Yes, rail and exchange blessings, love tokens,
As you rise up, good hearts, steel your courage
For the wolf is at the door.
Yvonne Daley is a career journalist who has returned to poetry for sanity in these dark times. She lives in Vermont, still a sane place.
