Saturday, September 21, 2019


The wolves came to me in the twilight,
hungry and sad, looking at me with
questions in their eyes. I could not
meet their gaze.

So many heartbreaks, all over the world -
the wild ones and I
feel them all.

It is not enough any more
to walk in the forest
or along the shore,
to breathe in the beauty and peace,
for my tattered heart and its grief
find some relief.

For the wild ones, each day is a struggle
to find habitat and food,
to keep their young alive.

How do I carry the weight of the world
when the leaders don’t care
if we survive?

I am watching the planet I love
slowly melting into the sea.
Children march for their future
not yet begun.
The tycoons grin
as they stuff their wallets
with air stolen from
the lungs of the young.

The wolves came to me in the twilight.
“Give us some hope,” they said,
but I had none to share.
My pen, my heart, my hope
all fall silent
in this spiritual poverty
(of which I am aware.)

I can hear trees weeping
in the forest,
the wind wailing laments
at the shore.
I will carry this pain
with me
till I can carry it
no more.


  1. I think you are a leader, and I have hope that your breathing will ripple into a unison-breathing that will save the world. Let’s begin — breathing with intention, as if rebirthing a new earth.

  2. Oh now that is a hopeful idea. Given how many marched yesterday, maybe we can tip over into the transformation of consciousness after all. For sure, we can vote for candidates who understand we are in crisis.

  3. I don't think I could look them in the eye. Ironically, we are in the same boat with them.

  4. So much sadness and pain in this poem, Sherry. There seems so little good news in these things...but we must keep hope.


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