The Wall

Front page photo
moves me to tremble.
You appear everywhere
teens, tired, nameless
infants, limping-aged
black and white silhouettes.
To see sad sights moves more
than hear them told
Torsos, limbs, stumbling
unable to sit
shoulders frozen
moving statues
chipped carvings
of eternal servitude
astound my eyes.
            For then the eyes 
            interpret to the ear
Let me pour broth
inside your parched mouths,
eavesdrop on stories—
hear only scared silence
your fearful gapes say more
than a million pages of words.
            The heavy motions 
            that it doth behold
Desire to devour 
slivered testimonies
how you came to be
mere dots
not exiting
not looking
only staring
from front page.
            When every part 
            a part of woe doth bear
Want to grip your hands
but afraid 
of what I might feel
afraid I will touch
human horror
too heinous
to believe.

Phrases from The Rape of Lucrece by Shakespeare

Will We Survive on Earth?

like a salmon vaulting
inside wild Alaskan rapids
maybe going home
maybe not knowing the address
maybe not knowing anything
except this wet-wild madness
there is nothing else to do
so, when grizzly dives his
hungry mouth and pulls
an orange wiggle from
frigid tangled torrent
in an instant the salmon
destined for bear’s empty belly
throbs her wiggle to waggle
trembles a flutter like winged bird
flies herself loose
dives through foaming waves
dives down and rises
like Fonteyn’s precise entrechat
again and again
there is nothing else to do

Inspiration from “Brief Answers to Big Questions” by Stephen Hawking

What We Think We Want

Some prefer a poem written
a smidgen mysterious
just enough to crease a smile
like a Cheshire cat
even more
want to decipher its meaning
with one quick read

Some prefer to view a Picasso
just enough to see that cubist face
looks old and childlike
inside the same glance
this easy knowing
leavens them the way
beads of water suddenly glitter
in blackness of a window
when headlights swerve around corner

Always been a specimen of linger
when my childhood slow-flow songs
were magic chains of words
I did not understand but
I sang them on their journey
out my pursed lips
trilled intriguing phonetics
because they were sounds
of those I loved
of those that taught me that

when one is exhausted
by all that is in the way
when depleted
by trying to understand
we are given a chance
to read it again
given a chance
to take another lingering view
maybe we are even
given a chance
to ponder what is still
unknowable
which may be
more than enough

My meditation practice is very connected to my everyday life. I sit formally daily as well as stay aware and conscious of just my walking from one room to the next. I am a Reiki Master, so that spiritual journey has deepened my connection to my true self. I love the statement: “The one I am looking for, is the one who is looking.”

Marianne has been a music teacher for 43 years. After teaching in Hong Kong, she returned to the Napa Valley and has been published in various literary magazines and reviews including Ravens Perch, TWJM Magazine, Earth Daughters, and Indiana Voice Journal. She was nominated for a Pushcart prize in 2017. She is a member of the California Writers Club and an Adjunct Professor at Touro University in California.