An Impossible Dream?

A poem by Phoebe Maurer,
A light skinned African American woman looking in a mirror

They wonder who I am.
My eyes are averted
to confuse and bemuse
their preconceived analysis.

My mirror image often
escapes and confuses me.
The mouth is full and sensuous,
velvety brown eyes shaded by full brows.

Do I really care what others think?
Of course, it explains the untold hours
spent having my coarse black African
hair corn-rowed ending with jewels.

Look at me, please, into me,
my soul, my mind, my psyche.
Yes, I’m not white or dark brown,
yet the palms of my hands are white.

I look into the depths of my past,
my pupils enlarge and the iris pure
white. Was it my great-great grandmother
who was impregnated with her owner's genes?

We were no longer pure African, but
never accepted as equals, until we
were emancipated by a war. And not
even then. It took decades.

A man of vision, a short towering giant
led people of all races, creeds and
religions to march peacefully
for peace and a chance to be equal.

He had a dream of a better
world to live in, but his dreams
had to overcome blind ignorant hatred
that killed, jailed and dispersed with venom.

My eyes are no longer averted.
They are staring into the future,
imagining and praying for a time
when peace, kindness, understanding and
acceptance will be our children’s future.

Will it ever be a reality?

ISTOPOGA LAKE

By Lois Jamieson

I wrote this poem a number of years ago after a family visit at a cottage on Istopoga Lake in central Florida. I had the good fortune to experience all that I describe in the poem.

                                 The Lake Comes Alive

The lake comes alive

when White Egrets fly

and Ospry dive

seeking a fish.

And double Hibiscus

all pink, red and white,

peak out from

Fan Palms

to see a

tall Sandhill Crane

strut by on his

black stocking legs.

An aristocrat

out for a stroll.

Turkey Buzzards,

on perches above

gray-green

matted moss,

stonily stare

down below.

where an

armed Armadillo

burrows his nose

in the ground.

And there on the grass,

a stately Blue Heron,

raises his head to the sound

of a wild turkey bark.

And from over the lake

hears a dog

barking back.

The lake comes alive.

           

INVADED WILDERNESS

By Phoebe Maurer

The desert was endless, never bare.

Vegetation, drab in winter,

sprouted blankets of wild color

as heat warmed their roots.

Ugliness grew beautiful.

Lifeless? Snakes slithered

over the dusty earth.

Gophers peered out of their

holes, twitched their noses

and returned to the underground

world. The avian population

twittered and chirped in a language

I needed to understand.

It wasn’t a flat desert.

Forms and monoliths

loomed up creating a

mountainous range of

infinity.

The symmetry of four peaks

were shaped by nature’s

scalpel when ice melted

and raging waters carved

and gouged a future world

of awesome beauty

that was protected

and cherished.

Dawn banished the darkness of night,

casting a glow upon my chosen

homeland. The sun altered

mountain ranges hourly as it journeyed

towards a picturesque sunset.

Nature’s glory gradually faded

when civilization moved in.

Small pockmarks became massive

rashes, disfiguring the natural

arid beauty, spreading towards the

Mountains with unsightly developments.

Endless rooftops are now

the vision of infinity.