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The Blog Bog
The Mag Rack
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After The Quake
Dedicated to the Haitian earthquake survivors
After the quake
We sweat,
Staring into nothingness.
Glare of mid-day sun,
Momentary blessing,
Blinding us from our piled chaos.
January shook us
September poured on us
We shivered
Newborns in laps, soaked backs
Bent over to shelter.
Adolescents cradled in wet arms.
Hell is this vast open space.
After the rain
We panicked
Daily fevers heated dark skin.
Coughs ravaged weak lungs.
Our waters are more impure.
Contamination from our dead.
Isolation of our dying population.
Jerrice J. Baptiste
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Offspring
They were quite special
Snuggling
Faces stroking each other
Mother cat and kitten.
Mothers have a way of knowing
When love is needed
Mending tender heartaches.
Revolutions in third world have a way of destabilizing mind.
Coup d'Čtat over many decades in Ayiti
Sons and daughters willing to die
Putting their lives on the line
Bloodshed some dead.
Human hearts grieve
Mothers don't know if they'll ever encounter offspring.
Their bodies and souls stretched out in coffins.
Cats have no worries they have nine lives.
Jerrice J. Baptiste __
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WITNESS
Witness to shreds of the immigrant's dream,
of her Greencard marriage to the rich American
and shamed return to China
Penniless
Childless
Husbandless
Remarriage to a poor Beijing painter, the dream continues
by living off the oblivious alimony of the blonde Californian Ex
Who, with his equally blonde fresh love,
cuts off the deceit
So they can afford to adopt a Chinese baby
and give her
The Immigrant's Dream.
Deborah Medenbach__
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WELCOMING CHANGE
The flickering light
of sun and dappled maple
erase the certainty of your face.
Speaking of short lives
and unsaid truths;
what seems solid becomes ephemeral
Only your eyes,
accustomed to staying
steady in uneven lights,
hold the moment
like contained lakes
welcoming change.
Deborah Medenbach__
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