Politics

All Poems, Anniversaries, Birthdays, Emotions, Politics, Stories, Worry

Storm

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Humidity made the heat seem like steam off an iron.

The weather app didn’t predict rain until late tonight.

So I donned a sundress to drive to a birthday/anniversary dinner.

My seventy-fifth, our fifty-fourth.

But without warning, the sky bellowed.

Lit up like a chandelier.

First raindrops, round, heavy.

Falling like drips from a leaky faucet.

Then picking up speed.

Coming down in torrents.

Gushing waterfalls.

Doing battle with windshield wipers.

Winning the competition.

Making it hopeless to discern trees, shops, oncoming cars.

To step out into rushing waters.

Gushing currents.

So, we sat there, peering from the windows.

Awesome spectacle.

Hammering the roof.

Exploding all around.

Setting off turmoil inside my head.

Struggling to remain still.

Not to threaten the joy of the occasion.

Now impossible.

Sorrow, rage, lamentation.

Unleashed by the tumult.

For a sick grandchild, her family.

For corrupt politicians, their enablers.

A partisan supreme court.

Disinformation, repeated in media echo chambers.

Republican party rhetoric.

Preferring guns to safety.

Isolationism to global engagement.

Alienation to cooperation.

The heavens scream.

As do I in silent affirmation.

Mourning time’s twisting, whirling waves.

How can we bequeath this roiling world to our young?

Slipping backwards?

To before women had rights?

My mind, liberated by the chaos.

Ruminations swirling in the winds.

Wandering, then wondering.

Here we’re dry inside a car.

What about robins, bees?

Grounded like commercial jets.

Can’t go where they please.

Once the whirlwind over,

winged creatures again will fly.

Soothing agitated thoughts

in mellifluous lullaby.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 15, 2024

 

All Poems, Health/Illness, Hope, People Traits, Politics

Appreciation

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It was an extraordinary day.

Instead of pollen, breezes carried appreciation.

Landing where I’d not seen it before.

Starting with an emergency appointment in a dental chair.

Discovering an infection under a recent crown.

Having the fortune to see an endodontist the same afternoon.

For a root canal.

Painful, but necessary.

Arriving home to witness a trio of handymen.

Doing jobs around our house.

Repairing, painting, creating.

The artisans three.

Brothers who work together.

Know their craft well.

The finale.

Our justice system.

Convicting Donald J. Trump

On thirty-four felony counts.

The jury paying attention.

Evaluating.

Deliberating.

Honoring accountability.

A trait distinguishing people from animals in the wild.

Lifting them to the ethical realm.

Beyond guilt, shame.

To responsibility for actions taken.

Too bad for some, accountability happens in a court of law.

Rather than in their own repertoire of responses.

To behaviors, actions taken.

But, today’s verdict, victory for democracy.

For humanity.

For me, a day of appreciation.

Hope and gratitude.

Boosting high my spirits.

Elevating mood.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 31, 2024

Ivan B.Nagy, M.D., one of the leaders of the family therapy movement, wrote extensively about accountability existing in an ethical realm above psychology.

All Poems, Family, Loss, Parents, Politics, Prose/memoir

What Would my Father Say this Memorial Day?

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My thoughts drift to my father on many occasions.

His birthday, yahrzeit.

Father’s Day, wedding anniversary.

Certainly, Memorial Day.

Designated to honor generations of veterans.

Sacrificing life and limb for our nation.

My father flew a B-24 during World War II.

Helping to liberate France.

Defeat Hitler.

End the Holocaust.

Maintain freedom against fascism, autocracy.

Allowing his children to grow up believing in democracy.

In certain inalienable rights.

Each person, equal.

No person above the law.

Life, liberty, pursuit of happiness.

What would my father say today?

If he could see democracy at risk?

Threats to abandon established governmental norms?

Like peaceful transfer of power?

Corruption in the Supreme Court?

A presidential candidate indicted on eighty-eight felony counts?

Overturn of Roe v Wade?

Rampant anti-Semitism?

What would my father say?

To officials conspiring to steal elections?

Undermine the balance of power?

Disadvantage swaths of voters?

Demand loyalty to party over Constitution?

What would my father say to me, my siblings?

Would he rail and holler?

Roll his eyes, shrug?

This man, whose parents fled Russia.

To rear family without fear, in safety.

From persecution, pogroms.

What would my father say?

For his wise words, I yearn.

I suppose I’ll never hear them.

It’s time I take my turn.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 27, 2024

Yahrzeit is the anniversary of the death of a loved one.

 

All Poems, Politics, Stories, Wellfleet

Following Politics

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Following politics drains me.

Maybe more in an election year.

When one candidate spends weeks in court.

Insisting he didn’t interfere with an election.

Taking credit for the overthrow of Dobbs.

Robbing women of fifty years of rights.

I just want to unplug.

Take a break.

But today, not possible.

Politics unbidden comes to me.

To my neighborhood.

After a week of logistic preparation.

Secret service scoping out the venue.

Cordoning off the area.

Closing the gymnasium at Salus.

Where I take classes.

Building tents, a stage.

Providing an enormous police presence.

Armored car, sharp shooter on a roof.

To protect the Vice President, her entourage.

Excitement mounts, palpable.

Till Kamala Harris arrives.

To discuss healthcare for women.

Loss of reproductive rights.

To an audience of like-minded constituents.

I’m not invited to hear the speech.

But, it’s easy to locate on line.

Listening, I agree with her.

Wishing undecided voters would tune in, heed.

Though the message well-articulated,

beliefs against women die hard.

So I suppose a talk like this

keeps the faithful on gender guard.

Lynn Benjamin

May 10, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Emotions, Environment/Mother Earth, Hope, Natural Beauty, Plants, Politics, Seasons, Spirituality, Trauma, Violence, Wisdom, Worry

Madding Drumbeat

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The world, madding drumbeat of bad news.

Endless wars.

Unreleased hostages.

Political chicaneries.

Environmental catastrophes.

Where’s the relief?

Even for a moment?

From the echo chamber of the mind?

Playing, replaying the misery?

Where’s the reassurance things will rebalance?

When no one has a crystal ball.

But, everyone, an opinion.

The only comforts, what Mother Nature offers.

Predictability of seasons.

Awakening in spring.

Aromas of lilacs, viburnum bouquets.

Silent explosions of color.

Maple seed pods and mushrooms.

Pollen and nectar.

Honking and chirping.

Baby bunnies and geese.

Newness and vitality.

Energy to move us forward.

Appreciate a smile, kind word.

Offer the same to others.

Tiny attempts to heal what’s broken.

Make something whole.

Do for others what Mother Earth does for us.

In her generous embrace.

Take a breath.

Let the earth caress.

Find blessed respite.

From frenzied distress.

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 30, 2024

All Poems, Gym/exercise, Politics

Enough News

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I’ve had enough news, said Bob.

Who normally would flick on MSNBC or CNN at 8 or 9.

I cannot listen to another story.

And then a rant.

Asking how a person charged with crimes can run for president?

In what world we live today?

He could not listen to another story.

Not about Trump.

Not about polling.

Not about the Supreme Court.

Not one more interview.

Opinion, perspective.

Enough is enough.

Turning on news is like jumping into the undertow.

Letting it suck you away.

Drown you.

Instead, Bob looks at newspapers.

Chooses articles he wants to read.

Listens to respected podcasters.

Now, mostly keeps himself fit.

Going to the gym, taking a class or two.

Making the rounds of machines.

Noticing contours of his body change

Something he never dreamed possible.

Life can be upbeat

when goals are small, defined.

Instead of getting whipped about,

harness body, mind.

 

Lynn Benjamin

March 11, 2024

All Poems, Birth, Politics, Seasons, Time

Off Her Rocker

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Mother Nature is off her rocker, pronounced the trainer.

As I entered the gym this morning.

Shivering, pulling my jacket closer.

Yesterday was rainy, warm.

Today, windy, cold enough to freeze the bones.

I listened to his lamentation in silence.

Though the weather variable, I don’t think Mother Nature looney.

Not even fickle.

After all, it is still February.

A leap year’s twenty-ninth.

She’s entitled to summon frost.

She never promised early spring.

Besides, global warming gets in her way.

Pushes her around.

Does what it pleases.

I’m certain she’s steady on her rocker.

As she shakes her head.

Observing a world in disarray.

Disorder and despair.

Greedy people initiating wars.

Not caring for innocents in need.

Violating natural resources.

Trashing ethics, decency.

Perhaps, she the stable heartbeat,

not off her rocker at all.

The world around, berserk.

She lucid, rational.

Mother Nature rocks in rhythm

to cycles of the earth.

Waiting like the rest of us

for quickening, rebirth.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 29, 2024

 

 

 

 

All Poems, Emotions, Farewell, Loss, Pain, Politics, Trees

Trees Shed Tears

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Strange that trees shed tears.

Little jeweled droplets.

Poised on naked branches.

Reflecting my own melancholy.

For a maddening world.

Where people hurt each other.

Innocents suffer.

Injustices grow like weeds.

Endings unravel faster than beginnings start.

So easy to let bad tidings flood the mind.

Especially after holiday farewells.

When guests distract from the usual diet.

Daily news, social media.

With their good cheer, enthusiasm.

Involvement in activities.

Baking, group walks.

Outtings, theater.

Now behind us.

Leaving a hollow.

Easily filled with sorrows.

For the multitude of them.

Ceaseless, never ending.

So, let me have my tears.

Legitimate, justified.

But also stock the void.

With good deeds, comaraderie.

Helping neighbors with a meal.

Marking the new year with friends.

Preparing for adventure.

Focusing on those I love.

Scattering kindness seeds.

Tapping into my own self’s best.

Relief from bleak unease.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 30, 2023

All Poems, Philadelphia, Politics, Trips and Places, Worry

Veterans’ Parade

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The city was quiet.

Except for a Veterans’ Parade.

Near Penn’s Landing.

A dozen armored vehicles.

Circling the streets.

We three spotted them.

From outside the National Constitution Center.

Sitting on benches while nibbling snacks.

What are they? Bob asked out loud.

To no one in particular.

But clearly, the distress of January 6th began to well.

I hope it’s not another coup, he mumbled.

Not wanting to scare our grandson, ten.

But, clearly worried.

I hankered for a stretch.

Striding down the long path toward the street.

Not to worry, I called. Just trucks from the Veterans’ Parade.

Bob exhaled a sigh of relief.

But, it was evident

from his words, his fearful stance.

The insurrection at the capital

bequeathed post traumatic trance.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 7, 2023

 

 

All Poems, Disappointment, Museums, Philadelphia, Politics, Trips and Places, Worry

National Constitution Center

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Usually, I shy away from crowds.

Look for places that don’t teem with people.

But, I was not content.

Rather, shocked.

When the National Constitution Center had no lines.

Few visitors pressing interactive buttons.

Attending the Freedom Rising performance.

It was so empty, we slipped through.

In record time.

Leaving me to ponder why so vacant?

Was it too beautiful outside to go into a museum?

Was tourist season over?

Or had people abandoned interest in learning about democracy?

Foundational laws of our country?

I had no answer.

But, I must confess.

My heart was heavy, gloomy.

Where were We the People?

Long halls unfilled, too roomy.

 

Lynn Benjamin

November 6, 2023