Rain Dance

The summer heat and drought sucked the life

out of the harvest. “We need rain!”

the tribe cried out to the chieftain and the shaman

who summoned the drummers and flute players bringing feathers

and headdresses, turquoise and specifically patterned clothing.

All the men and women gathered to dance for days

or until clouds formed and rain fell from the sky.

The dancers chanted and spun in circles pounding their feet

in a rhythmical beat one that was easy and not too fast

their eyes to the sky they shouted out until clouds gathered,  

“Hey ya ya, hey ya, hey ya ya, hey ya!”

Once the rain fell the job was done, tools were put away until

needed again. If the rain lasts too long they will dance counterclockwise

keeping the balance between humans and spirit

offering up rituals and prayers for blessings from above.

Waist Deep In Rainwater

Isaac threatened the Republican Convention
but veered to the west and hit the gulf coast instead

it gathered hurricane speed and came ashore in New Orleans
on the anniversary of Katrina, eight years before.

I thought all the hoopla was exaggerated and unnecessary

until I saw pictures of survivors waist deep in rainwater

houses flooded up to the roof creating a natural disaster

before summer was through

realizing my complaints about high temperatures and humidity

were whiny and unnecessary when the alternative

of walking waist deep in rainwater to cross the street

while everything of value was getting soaked.

Whatever was important yesterday; office gossip, due dates,

medical appointments and the starting of school

all forgotten when standing waist deep in rainwater
with no empty boat available for you and your dog.

Life on the Streets

Hunger
the first symbol of poverty
a gnawing pain deep in the gut
making garbage tossed in the dumpster

a substitute for regular food
replacing substance for flavor  
with anything that offers sustenance

a person can live without a home
benefitting from the generosity
of strangers and public sympathy.

Sickness
follows close behind
living without adequate shelter
consuming food of questionable value
exposed to the elements and parasites
upon the street

a toothache that never heals
pain in the gut from internal ills
an anguish that can't find relief
no ribbon for the disenfranchised

lingering on abandoned streets
in alley ways and under freeways
huddled with others like themselves
hidden from the rest of the world

grateful for the gift of clothing,
a sleeping bag, a place to wash,
a chance to clean-up for a little while.

Regret
for false moves and bad luck
taking the limited time on earth
and squandering all opportunities
drowning sorrows in drugs or drink
leaving the mind and body numb

trying to forget about lost love
and mistakes in one swallow
the only choice left is survival
trying to find pleasure in whatever

life has left, a five dollar hand-out
from a stranger, a warm meal at the church,
a friendship with a rat in the gutter,
no thoughts of suicide, even though
it looks like there is no further down to go.

Death
comes to all living things the rich and famous
the downtrodden and forgotten
children, animals, plants. Birth
comes with a life sentence,
it is not good or bad, fair or unfair

right or wrong, it is just the way it is
and each day could be the last
at the hands of a deranged maniac
or a mosquito with a deadly virus

when we meet the face of god
will He accept us into His heavenly kingdom
or will it look like it did on earth
scavenging and surviving 
on the savage streets?

Creative Juices

If we could gather the fruits of ideas from the inspiration tree

and squeeze them out for all to see, manifested in physical form:

dance, art, music, math, science, architecture, social structures,

what a difference we could make in the world but so often
we doubt  our vision, or those nudges from the divine.

We pass them off as impossible intrusions and thus they languish
inviting rats and other pest to destroy any semblance of creative
juice leaving a stagnant stench, the crud of human misery.

What if the weather changes, economic downturn and political unrest
were the result of our sinfulness and slothfulness, or narcissistic
perusal of the trite and trivial, leaving the grander schemes unopened

and untried. God is having a tantrum to get our attention to wake us up

so we don’t fall victim to despair and to accept the challenges set before us.

Get to work rather than fear the end is near.  

Let's Dance

I remember the night
along the sand
the moon was bright
your eyes on fire
we danced the tango
to the mariachi band.

There was that time
in the streets of Spain
we clicked our heels
to the flamenco beat
you looked so handsome
with beads of sweat
dripping from your upper lip.

We swayed our hips

to the salsa heat

Latin synchronicity
in our quick feet
dancing until dark

at the wedding in the park. 

Walking on the Moon

I watched
from earth,
listening
to every word,
cheered
when they
stepped

on the moon
then life
went
back to
normal. 

Questions emerged.
Was there
a conspiracy?
Did the event
ever happen?

Now he’s gone
and I recall once again

the exhilaration
of those days
in space
my life joined
to his
when I looked
back at
the earth

from the
moon.
His exploration
of new frontiers

was captured 
in these words,


“A small step
for man
 a giant step
for mankind.”

In memory of Neil Armstrong

Night Stalker

I remember
the summer
several years ago
we slept with the windows
closed because
a monster roamed
at night 

choosing random
victims
leaving death
and trauma
no one was safe
young or old

when the night
stalker prowled
in the neighborhood.

When he was caught
I studied his face,
handsome by some
standard,

but surely insane.
The teen who testified
against him

said the convict stared at him
throughout the trial
and when he stared back
the stalker winked.