Black Isn't the Color of Death

Black isn't the color of death

Sometimes

Death is red

blood splatters and pools

carpet stains

an entire industry spawned to clean up afterwards

Sometimes

Death is  blue

Mama's little baby

footsie pajamas and smelling of milk

goes to sleep one night and doesn't

wake up WAKE UP WAKE UP!

Death is sometimes yellow

eyes and skin

toxic brew of destruction and denial

dragon's breath burning

anyone caring or stupid enough 

to get close

Sometimes

Death is white

hospital walls

sheets bleached threadbare

faces of families

numb, dumb, blank canvasses

of misery and confusion

Black isn't the color of death

not the only one

Death takes all colors

and makes them hers.

submitted for dVerse Poetics, Playing with Color at dVerse Poets Pub

Dona Nobis Pacem (What's So Funny?)

Blog For Peace!

 

We ask for peace

but are at war in our own households

We tell soldiers to abandon their weapons

while we sleep with guns

under our mattresses

We expect countries to share borders

and we can not share our own children

without tearing them apart from inside

 How can there be peace

when our hearts pulse with anger and hate?

Who will teach love

to the child whose mother was murdered

by her father?

Who will bring peace

to the child who sleeps with

his brother's ashes in a coffee can?

A classic from Elvis (no, not Presley!)




submitted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Peace
and BlogBlast for Peace 2011

The Ceiling Tile

I stared up at the ceiling and counted the tiles, trying to distract myself. My attention, however, kept returning to the one directly above my head. It was covered with an old water stain. The rust colored blotch spread out over the tile like dried blood. It seemed so out of place in this building of high tech gadgets and the best trained doctors in the world.  "Now try not to move," I heard the lab tech say. I lay on the table, my pregnant belly a souffle about to be poked before it was finished baking. I imagined it collapsing beneath the amniocentesis needle with a "poof!" ending my questionable pregnancy before it even had a chance. I didn't dare look at the ultrasound machine.  Instead, I watched the minute hand sweep a slow circle on the wall clock.  It was supposed to be over in a minute, and it was. Afterward, I was glad my husband was there to drive me home. I wasn't in pain. Pain would have been welcome. I was numb, with intermittent stabs of terror. I existed in that state for the next 3 weeks.

submitted for RememberRED-Just Before You Start