Saturday, March 24, 2018

Bringing Down Goliath

The news crests in waves
its burden grows,
its burgeoning weight unfolds
as the story is told
 again and again.
New, yet old, we’ve been here before…
the victims, the heroes, the rescues…
and the underlying, the incident defining,
the never-ending question—
        “Why?”
What is the common thread
that weaves through these events?
Columbine, Aurora, Sandy Hook, 
Virginia Tech, Miami, Las Vegas, Parkland...
“Guns don’t kill people, people do.”
“If you outlaw guns, only outlaws will have guns”
Did our forefathers foresee automatic weaponry
when they constitutional-ized the right
to “Keep and bear arms?”
How many innocents must be lost?
How many children must die?
How many husbands, wives, fathers, mothers,
brothers, sisters, friends, loved ones?

If now is NOT the time to address this, then when?

Tired of the “bought and paid for’s“
sweeping it under the rug.
This isn’t about the rights of the hunters
to keep their rifles—though the NRA
will make surely make it seem that way.
It is about the ease at which anyone
with money and an i.d. can by a gun.
It is about how one person can amass
an arsenal, an armory, and go on a shooting spree—
while there is no accountability,
no central data base, no red flag  
to track the would-be crazies.
“The people have rights.”
What about the rights of all citizens
to go to school, to go to church,
to go out for an evening,
without fear of never returning home again?

Accountability starts with us—
 you and me— speaking out.
If enough Davids take on Goliath
he will fall,
and maybe, just maybe, mass shootings
will cease to be so commonplace,
maybe, just maybe, we can feel safe again,
and maybe, just maybe,  we won’t have to hear the words
“the deadliest mass shooting in modern U.S. history”
   again.

© Ginny Brannan 

Image: Bierberg, conceptart.org
Full credit to Bierberg who conceptualized the perfect image of a modern day Goliath. Link with image, above.



Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Highly Combustible













When darkness falls upon this day
to threaten ill, to take away
the ember glowing from within - `
the burning heart, covert desires
that feeds the passion, fuels that fire
till well dries up,  and life spreads thin.
When words appear, then dissipate
and we cannot extrapolate
before they fade to turn obscure—
and noise that permeates the day
inspires chaos, disarray
while we slip further in arrears.
So rare now comes that blinding light
that kindles urgency to write
hidden deep in shrouded sphere.
With notebook near, with pen and hand
I wait the writing god’s command;
my sacrifice upon the pyre
awaits the spark to start the fire.


© Ginny Brannan 2016

Thursday, March 8, 2018

March is a Surly Old Cat














Dusk falls quick on this early March day,
winter not ready to cede to spring;
another nor’easter’s heading our way…
anticipation—bordering aggravation—
as we wait to see what this storm will bring.
And so the flurries begin to fall
floating…swirling…giving chase—
racing over hedges and open lawn,
settling on treetops and old stone wall,
the wind picks up and quickens pace.
We set aside our mixed emotions
awed by wonder that we see:
nature has waved a magic wand
passing her paintbrush in slow motion
over the crooks of twigs and limbs
as pure white crystals settle in
to cloak the bald and barren tree.
A fine sift of confectioner’s sugar
powder-coats all within our sight;
soft pussy willows bend under the weight
while new spring birds have taken flight.
And so it builds—flake on flake
layer upon layer— drifting down;
frozen, heavy, muffling sound.
The first signs of spring beat a hasty retreat
as March Lion rears its head and roars,
and plows come out to scrape the  street.
Inside we listen as they make their rounds,
and under this mantle of new-fallen white
we knit our poems on this cold March night.


© Ginny Brannan March 2018


Image: G. Brannan 3/8/18