Never Give Up, Never Surrender

It’s not always about doing what we “want” to do

sometimes it’s about doing what we need to do

about pushing ourselves to get out of bed

out of the hole, out of the ‘low’ we are in

“Never Give Up, Never Surrender”

I’ve watched you struggle with the day to day

never giving up, propelling yourself forward

when you barely had the strength to sit up.

I’ve watched you will yourself to stand, knees shaking

forcing your atrophied legs to hold you

—just a few moments longer.

When asked if you would try again,

it wasn’t even a question, you just did it.

What is the measure of a man?

I’ve watched you lose your strength, your balance

your ability to work, all the things

that you thought defined you

to discover that what truly defines you

is that part of you inside that

never gives up, never surrenders.

I’ve watched you come back

from the brink of forever,

to grow stronger every day.

You are so much more than the sum of your parts,

you are the epitome of faith and belief:

belief that God won’t give you more than you can handle;

faith that if He wills it, you will get better.

I may struggle with my own beliefs,

   all but one that is…

I believe in you, who you are,

the example that you set.

I have watched you fall, pick yourself up

brush yourself off, and try again.

You have taught me that if you are willing to try

then nothing can keep you down.

That is all any of us can do,

get up, brush ourselves off

and keep moving forward.

…and never, ever, ever give up.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Photo from personal collection, 2015

Stirring the Pot...

It’s not about disrespect

the ‘one-knee’ genuflect

that drives the politicians insane.

It’s not about the veterans

who’ve fought in any war

or those who haven't

  —for that matter.

It’s not about the flag

or what it stands for:

in case you’ve forgotten

it stands for all of us—

we are all created "equal,"

and have “certain inalienable rights”

nowhere does it specify these 'colors'

   belong to only the ‘white.’

Stereotypes abound, they’ve been around

for decades. Gang culture permeates society

insults our integrity, so when a celebrity

takes a knee he is being too “gangsta.”

They’ll tell you it’s about race, that

  “He’s dissing the flag…

   he’s dissing the country…

   he’s dissing the veterans…

   Let’s put him in his place.”

   It don’t matter the reason

   because him and his kind

   deserve to be punished;

   we’ll spread the word

   to endorse “open season”

Why can’t they just see this is where it began

‘See no evil,  hear no evil…

  don’t want to know.”

And if we don’t listen

and we turn a blind eye

we’re basically saying we “don’t give a damn”

—condoning the violence no matter the man.

This blindness is spreading

it turns to disease; 

fueling deeper myopic tendencies.

It waits in the wings

like some kind of vulture

to pick the raw scabs

of our struggling culture.

No, it’s not about the flag, nor the vets nor the wars

nor the country we live in and love to the core

it’s about equal treatment under the law

and freedom to express one’s dissatisfaction

when our leaders are guilty of not taking action

for this huge demographic they choose to ignore.

The media blows this thing out of the water

the president perpetuates to sow more discord

No, it’s not about the flag or being unpatriotic

this constant barrage from this would-be warlord;

it is about trolling and controlling the masses

and stirring the derision as it fits his accord

distracting from the bigotry, the social injustice

the prejudice and animus that’s being ignored.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

I grew up in small town VT in the '60's where we watched the race riots on TV. It wasn't until I was 10 or 12 and visiting my cousin in the bigger city, that I personally saw the ignorance and animus that some felt toward others because of skin color or cultural differences. You'd think by now, 50 years later, we'd have grown past such blatant bigotry, but this "take a knee" movement has revealed what apparently has been lying just below the surface all along. I may never understand what it is like to be profiled and discriminated against because of the color of my skin, but I believe that we all deserve "equal treatment under the law,' and that our leaders should be focusing more on understanding the reasons behind the movement rather than stirring the pot with their selective ignorance, personal opinion, and inflammatory commentary.

The Dark Side

Can we judge the life of another

when we don’t know the demons within

the highs and lows and daily struggles

or a need for their darkness end?

To be surrounded, yet feel alone

when nothing is going as planned

when it’s so hard to voice the pain that you have

feeling useless and not worth a damn.

The temptress sings her siren song

awakens the demons within…

I’ve glimpsed into the dark abyss

while tiptoeing on the rim.

Today another left this world

the dark side made its claim

and all the folks he’s never met

are mentioning his name.

A sad and senseless tragedy

there’s no free pass with fame

so difficult to understand,

when no one thing’s to blame.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

When there are so many shades of black and gray

sometimes we can’t tell the clouds from the night.

And there are times when you know that people love you, 

but they just don’t seem to understand.

Sometime it’s only a word or a call;  a note,

a comment that makes all the difference.
“I 'd notice”was my lifeline—two little words,

a simple reminder when I needed it most

that someone was out there and listening to me.

I only danced with the darkness; for so many it is a daily struggle

bigger than anything that most of us will ever understand…

If you feel weighted down, that you are sinking

and have nowhere to turn, talk to someone
if you can’t talk to a friend call 1-800-273-8255.

Hoping that all who struggle with depression and their ‘dark side’ will find peace.

They all were "somebody's"

The lead ball ripped through wool and skin

and tore through femur like a rocket—

the man in blue dropped to the ground

his moaning blending with the sounds

of cannon fire, artillery,

of shouting coming through the trees.

His thoughts turned inward to his home

back to the girl he left behind

he wondered if she’d ever read

the letter folded in his pocket;

but in the end, he'd stood his ground

that no man should be shackle-bound.

The trench lay deep, the stench was rife

the smell was worse than rotting fish—

of death, decay and spoiled meat,

of wounded holding onto life.

The damp chill cut them to the bone

it seemed there was no end in sight

but for a moment, time stood still,

as song arose this Christmas morn.

Out on the field, the firing ceased

as both sides lay their weapons down,

they shared the images of home

with differences now set aside

inside this momentary peace.

Flying low and taking flak

the bomber flew a steady course

another mission lay ahead…

while Red Tails flew as his escort.

As Mustangs chased the Messerschmitts

the bombardier searched for his mark—

the target bridge lay in his sites

he opened bay, released the load

then turned the plane to take it home.

Few casualties were lost this run

their mission for the day complete

still many more would lie ahead,

till enemy would take defeat.

Deep in the jungle far from home

they hacked their way through undergrowth

so thick that they could barely see.

Their wet clothes clung to them like glue,

while searching for the enemy.

With every yard that these troops gained
another skirmish would ensue.

The bloodshed reigned on nightly news

while protestors took to the streets—

and politicians played their part

claiming that they could defeat

the enemy on their own turf.

How could they justify the cost

of all the sons that would be lost?

The arid lands were dry and hot

with rocky hills and desert plains

and far beyond, the mountain range.

Against a new insurgency

our soldiers sent to do their job

to keep this enemy at bay,

to find some kind of lasting peace.

Out on the road the humvee stops,

a man steps out to scan the land…

the sniper waits and takes the shot,

another soldier’s life is claimed.

Another wartime casualty

the flag draped coffin boards the plane,

returning home to family,

while duty-bound, his troops remain.

The never-ending battle roars

right side, wrong side, enemies…

yet all these folks were somebody’s

brother, sister, husband, friend.

As long as we remember them,

keep their memory, say their name

not just one day, but every day

if in our hearts they still remain,

their lives were never lost in vain.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Rise

We must rise above the violence of late,

return to the peace we once knew

while turning our backs to the anger and hate.

Too long we’ve left destiny in hands of fate

now the world’s upside-down and  askew—

we must rise above all the violence of late.

And shelter ourselves from the thoughts that negate

as we keep open minds to the truth

while turning our backs to the anger and hate.

Disparager’s words paralyze; suffocate,

and ignorance needs no excuse—

we must rise above the violence of late.

The angry man bellows with words that berate

yet we can stand firm and refuse,

while turning our backs to the anger and hate.

Fear breeds more fear, but love liberates

and we are so long overdue…

we must rise above the violence of late

while turning our backs to the anger and hate.

Ginny Brannan 2018

Image by Author. Near Harwichport,  Cape Cod MA 2016

Soliloquy of an Autonomous Writer

‘If a tree falls in the forest with no one around

        does it still make a sound?’

The end is here…no more daily soliloquies,

ravings of a would-be poet on a rainy day.

                    No more weaving of tales 

nor brain droppings on an empty page:

We endeavor to leave our mark

nameless, faceless storytellers

whose words generally go unread.

But do not flatter yourself—we do not write for you

nor pander to those who’ll never understand

why we do the things we do.

Another April has passed…

we met the challenge, gave it our best.

We wore our hearts on our sleeves,

shared the inner workings of mind and soul,

opened the vault and gave a glimpse

exposing pieces of who we are...

not for you, but for us, and us alone:

exorcising our demons,

and finding our redemption  

somewhere in the words.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

#30 NaPoWriMo2018

Anam Cara

Google Image: The Dark Hedges, Northern Ireland

You’ve always had my back

understanding exactly who I am.

We see past the other's faults

in a friendship not defined by love

but by something deeper:

I see your heart;

I know your soul.

You listen without judgement.

You have lifted me from the depths

and carried me over the abyss.

To say “thank you’ would not be enough

Know that you are part of me,

my Anam Cara

my soul friend.

© Ginny Brannan 2018