Intervention

 

They say it “wasn’t sustainable”

the years of growth and community

of peace, and sensibility.

That our differences are “too widespread,”

our beliefs are "too far apart."

And so they came, trading decency for hard-line tactics

erasing truth with false statistics.

They say that we need to “buck up”

we’ve gotten “too soft”

as they gaslight,  rewrite history,

releasing those who broke the law

with no thought to what they’re breaking.

Money can’t buy everything.

While it bought the presidency 

and much of his immediate constituency.

with the promise of “legal” tax evasion,

it’s showcased our fragility.

Feeling lost, without direction.

we can’t give up and can’t give in—

We are the candles in the dark

the truth that cannot be erased.

The darkness holds a million stars

and we, the carriers of the light

must stand firm against the night.

 

© G.B. 2025

Credit for Image: https://starwalk.space/en/news/why-is-the-sky-dark-at-night

Procrastination!

 

Oh look! A dusting of soft snow!

It falls so gently on the lawn.

I watch the flakes as they alight

to paint the boughs in pristine white.

 

It fills these eyes with such delight!

It purifies the grit and grime;

and brings me back to childhood days

transforms me to a different time.

 

Now old bones ache with winter chill–

Oh, to be that child still!

Those winter days that I recall,

no worries should I slip and fall.

 

I watch here from my warm cocoon

through the frosted window pane

and contemplate if I should wait

to see if snow will turn to rain.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2025

Ode to the Days of Wonder!

 

Dawn breaks, I awaken to find

that overnight new snow has fallen,

coating lawn and trees alike.

It softens harsh lines and, to our delight,

brightens the monotone landscape

with untainted softness and purity.

Even the gray hills, once indistinguishable 

from the clouds above, have donned caps of winter white.

As children, we relished the new-fallen snow

Bundled in warm jackets and snow pants

boots, hats, scarves and mittens, barely able to move,

we would pull our sleds from storage sheds

heading for the nearest hill, cocoa and cookies

awaiting our return. Years pass, and time takes it’s toll.

We no longer see snow as a welcome reprieve

but more of a chore, an obstacle to get past

I miss the days of mittens drying by the heat, 

of rosy cheeks, of less worry and no hurry.

In every adult fraught with concern and responsibility

 lives an inner child yearning to be free.

 

 

© Ginny Brannan 2025

Image One: Three Children Sledding by Vickie Wade, full credit to the artist

Image Two: Photo of author and friends, circa early 1960's

A Crack in Everything

 

I hold my breath and wait for change

but nothing is forthcoming yet...

all those days and yesteryears

all the things that brought us here,

all that warmth has disappeared.

and I‘m left holding empty dreams.

Perhaps its age that makes it so–

the distant sounds of a life once full,

of home, of family being built...

I’ve watched it all come pouring down

 like rain upon the windowsill.

Stuck inside a world of gray

all life’s color washed away...

this countenance that I display

hides a heart in disarray.

The dissonance between what’s real

and what I choose for you to see—

the remnants of my dignity

protected under lock and seal.

I seek the crack that holds the light

the answers to this inner plight...

as yet, have found no resolution

 for one so lost and disillusioned.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2025

 

“There is a crack, a crack in everything
 That's how the light gets in”

Leonard Cohen “Anthem