When the Light comes Rising

(With thanks to Susan Cooper)

I am not a Christian. 

I am a Pantheist, a Jew, a believer in Spirit and Light; 
I find satisfaction in the yearly defeat of the Darkness. 
I love the colours, the fragrances, the feel of the winter holidays, the giving, the sharing, the warmth of Good Will. 
I invoke the Light and embrace the Spirit of the Season. 

It is neither Father Christmas nor the Hogfather delivering presents, not the birth of a promised child of prophecy, not the candles of Chanukah, Kwanzaa, or the bright glittering trees, not the songs of joy, or the laughter of children building constructs in the snow, not the smell of rare or common spices that yearly infuse me with the spirit of giving and love. 

It is the Light once again come Rising, 
and with it Hope that in the future Light and Peace will again prevail. 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 25 December 2015

“It’s Just Another Day”

(With thanks to James Paul McCartney)

Each day is another challenge
comprised of stair treads up and downhill slides.
We mainly go through life unaware of the burdens:
leaping over the hurdles, and avoiding the pitfalls.

Some obstacles that we soar over would destroy another;
others that some might consider amusing encounters could be the fissure that swallows us.

No one knows what the next moment brings,
what its toll could be on the next thing encountered.

Never assume you have all the answers; 
you may not even know the questions.

Be kind…

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 17 November 2015

Wonder

“I'm not afraid of thunder, I am full of light, I am full of wonder.” 

(With thanks to Emeli Sande)

How does one quantify the human spirit and its ability to become?  
How does one measure the depths of compassion and empathy of any sentient being, 
its drive and determination, its desire or its will? 
How does one determine what was before and what potentials the future holds?
How do we know what follows; what happens next?

I am not so stiff-necked and self-assured to believe without any doubt or hesitation that I know all there is to know, and can determine without the whiff of hubris that others either know less than I or know more than humans can ever know with predictable logic and certainty.

I believe in the god in everything, not the God of everything.
I believe in Good and Evil, Light and Dark, Probability and Chance; 

I am not terrified by Uncertainty, only Doubt.
I believe in every tinge, tint, and shade of Grey that life can devise.
I believe in what I can see, hear, touch; also trusting what I can feel, sense and intuit.
I believe that anything is possible even when little is probable.
As long as life continues, and just maybe after…

There is Infinity.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 9 November 2015

Here’s to Life

(With thanks to Artie Butler and Phyllis Molinary)

When did my life become a marathon endurance contest; 
when did stubborn existence become a goal?

How does one get anything done when in constant slow-mo; 
worse yet… running backwards and in place?

Wasn't it supposed to get better with age; 
less clawing and struggling to remain one’s self?

Wasn't the promise of age one of freedom and calm; 
being, living, doing, enjoying, and not just subsisting?

How do we make living more than just being present during our own span; 
to actually participate in our minutes, hours, and days?
What does one have to do to outwit entropy; 
when do we get to do, to be, to live?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 29 October 2015

'Here's to Life"

Value versus Price

(for Yitzhak)

If we had unlimited opportunities to spend on life
would we still choose to disburse death?

If we could opt for beauty, health, happiness, and peace
would we still decide to select ugliness, ill will, destruction, and war?

Why is there always time and resources for hate;
acceptance of greed, rage, ruin and devastation
but no patience for charity, tranquillity, renaissance, or goodwill?

How has humankind managed to survive
while continually destroying itself and its surroundings?

How much longer can avarice and fury be satiated with entropy and death
without ever nurturing wonder and life?

When can the sound of music drown out the guns of war,
the scent of nature surpass the smell of blood,
the green of new shoots overtake the memorial poppies?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 20 October 2015

Sweet Dreams are Made of This:

(with thanks to Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart)

Deep within sleep, one can find safety or fear,
pleasure or pain, memory or loss.

Sleep can comfort, caress, disturb or delight
prod or poke, swaddle or drown.

Slumber can clarify or confuse, cause damage or heal,
energise or de-tense, teach or defeat.

In dreams we remember, re-join, and resolve;
our subconscious refreshed and restored.

With sleep we repair, we revive, we grow;
without it we wither, we diminish, we die.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 29 September 2015

September of my Years

 “One day you turn around and it’s summer, next day you turn around and it’s fall”

(With thanks to Sammy Cahn)

Want, Need, Loss, Fear, Atonement:
I have a lot going through my head this month:
I have remembered and eulogised, recollected and ached, recalled and cried;

So many deaths, so many losses, so many fears,
so much sadness, so many tears.

Regrets are universal, as are fears but September… 

oh September we have so many of both!

9/11, Hurricanes and Super Storms, Battle of Britain, Libya,
and this year wildfires, refugees, the so-called Caliphate;
so much death, so many afraid, countless in need.

What does one do, what can one say to ease the collective pain;
especially if we have done little to help and assuage the pain and need?

How do we as human beings help each other through the Septembers?

“For the sins, we have committed under duress or willingly…

Forgive us, pardon us, and grant us atonement”

May we all be written and sealed for a good year.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 22 September 2015

9^th Day of Tishrei 5776

Listen People

(with thanks to Graham Gouldman)

I do not choose my friends for their religion or politics;
but I may drop them for their intolerance or indifference.
People come in all shapes, sizes, colours, doctrines, and opinions; I take their views, compare them to my own, and if honestly felt will try to understand if not accept.

My judgement may come from different sources, different information, different cultures but my understanding is mine own and their beliefs may feel just as valid to them. I may never agree with their conclusions but as long as they've derived their opinions from honest research and not from the pleasure of ignorance I will respect their choices, but only on the condition that they respect mine.

I may try to add to their information base, attempt to give them other sources and viewpoints to consider but I will never attack them on their own ground, call them names in public, or demean them just because I disagree with their core beliefs. Anyone that does not accord me that same respect will be erased if not ignored, (unfortunately I do not ignore easily, my brain replays on auto).

I am infuriated by the mudslinging, name-calling, virulently vicious attacks made by people who disagree on some topics and don’t give themselves the opportunity to agree on others. People on opposing sides or people of conflicting opinions on the same side need to take off the blinders, take their fingers out of their ears, and learn to be silent long enough to hear.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak  
© 11 September 2015

In and Out of Focus

“A cold, cold darkness and past confusion is quickly calling yeah, all of my illusions.” 

(With thanks to Blue Cheer)

Everything feels like yesterday except yesterday;
everything feels like today except today.

Decades-old memories are easily summoned;
last week’s barely recognisable.

Childhood dreams still glitter like stars;
last night’s dreams read as unmemorable.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 27 August 2015

Who are you now?

"At Sixty One" (with thanks to Janis Ian) 

 

Anyone who knows me at all knows my worst enemy is Self.

I am Compassion, Empathy, Understanding, Reason,

Patience, Forbearance, Reckless Endurance, Pain;

Complacency never contemplated as a possible option
 or underachievement a considered goal.

If you believe in it then do it, if not, why are you acting?

If it’s your truth, then shout it, if not, then why do you speak?

 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 8 August 2015

I'm ‘FIXING a HOLE’ where the rain gets in

(with thanks to Lennon and McCartney)

There is a hole deep inside me that reverbs and echoes

filled with mirrors and memories,
with darkness, and light.

I try to fill it with joy and appreciation,
with music, with colour,
with starlight and sun.

The emptiness pleads for praise and affirmation
requesting endorsement,
demanding replies.

All I can tell it is that Echo answers
the wind sweeps the raindrops,
and Light fills the gloom.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 11 August 2015

“Maybe the Last Time, I don’t Know”

(with thanks to Mick Jagger and Keith Richards)

Each sorrow, each loss, each terror, each tear
I ask myself, “Is this it?  Is it over?”

Each joy, each blessing, each present, each smile
I ask myself, “Will I know this happiness again?”

Things always happen without warning,
both the bad and the good;
even the expected happens suddenly.

Each moment is its own surprise.

How can one prepare for cataclysm or bliss?

If we go through life always expecting endings and beginnings;
making each “so long” a potential “goodbye”
how do we ever find time to live?

And yet, when one is aware of time, how do we not?

We can only pay attention and appreciate each moment:
happy or sad, frightened or peaceful, angry or content
for that is how we understand our blessings.

That is how we learn to say goodbye, as well as hello;
that is how we learn to live.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 
© 3 August 2015

Cloak of Invisibility

(No one should live their life at the side of the road)

The last in the queue,
the last person picked,
the last phone to ring,
the last door to knock;
the last person asked
the first person told.
The last thank you sent,
the last present bought,
the last person noticed,
the last to be heard;
the last person trusted
the first to be blamed.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 26 July 2015

“Just Call me Inspiration”

(with thanks to Carrie Newcomer whose lyrics inspired it, and a nod to Stevie Nicks) 

There is a voice in my mind, just beyond silence; just beyond sound
I recognise its resonance deep in my bones, just beyond hearing; just beyond thought.

I feel it on my skin, like feathers, like grit, just beyond contact; just beyond thought.

It howls with the wind, crashes like waves, it is as sharp as a bird’s beak, as sweet as its song, 
it echoes like canyons, and babbles like brooks, just beyond thunderous; just beyond sigh.

I can’t discern meaning, I cannot catch words; just beyond earshot, just beyond grasp
but I might learn its secret though hidden within; the voice is possibly mine.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 19 July 2015

“My Name is Pain, you Belong to Me”

   (With thanks to Bernie Taupin)

Unflexing, non-malleable, overstretched, taut;

the cords of my neck have tightened like a noose and defeated me.
cold, heat, pills, rubs, fascial and trigger point massage.
raised my work surface with a ream of paper, my elbow with a beanbag.
circumventing right turns, and reversing is challenging.
muscles swollen and clenched, leaving my view to only what’s ahead.
just one night of sleep, one morning without distress, one action without pain.

Gods know I’ve tried to hold my ground, giving not an inch;

I’ve eschewed my pillows, using only the tartan travel horseshoe I bought at Logan;

I avoid the phone unless I can use a Bluetooth, shun the landline;

Every type of stress in my life is bound up like macramé in my neck and shoulder;

The prospect terrifies, the outlook is bleak, the spectacle blurred;

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 15 July 2015

“How many times can a man turn his head pretending he just doesn't see?”

(With thanks to Bob Zimmerman)

Morning Terrors:

Whose family, whose savings, whose home?

Whose healthcare, whose safety, whose guns?

Whose husband, whose wife, whose child?

Whose taxes, whose income, whose job?

Whose buildings, whose bridges, whose roads?

Whose water, whose food, whose air?

Whose future, whose present, whose past?

Whose country, whose scripture, whose book?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 10 July 2015

“I’ve been Down so Long, that the Tears Roll up my Cheek”

(With thanks to Bobby Darin, and a shout out to Martin Yarbrough)

Burned out

Bone weary

Run down

Out of steam

Done out

Done in

Enervated

Lost my edge

Worn out

Worn through

Gone stale

Out of tune

Dragged down

Dead-tired

Overstressed

Lost my nerve

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 9 June 2015

“You’re so vain… you prob’ly think this blog is about you.”

(With thanks to Carly Simon)

Some of the plainest people glow with internal beauty; 
some of those with the most perfect looks have nought but external prettiness.

Some of the loneliest people care more for other’s troubles; 
some of busiest find time to give comfort and support.

Some people care for nothing but themselves: 
are so wrapped up in their desires, their looks, 
and their egos… that the real world becomes invisible, 

and everything not focused on them is a petty annoyance.

Self-absorption is a drug more potent than poppies, 
obsession with one’s self is a disease more disabling than paralysis.

Vanity in its mildest form is a form of domination, 
at its most dangerous self-aggrandising is the scourge used to torment others’ souls.

Ronda R.  Scott-Marak
© 3 June 2015

“Quoth he… ‘Are ye going to Deerfield Fair?’ ”

(With thanks to a famous ballad, and an infamous bird)

It was cold, dreary, it was windy; 
I warmed my hands on Goldens’ tongues and St. Bernard fur
I smiled.

There was music, coffee, there were funnel cakes; 

I drank in my fill of texture and colour
I smiled.

Copper, and ceramics, paintings, and photos; 

I shopped in my mind placing each just so
I smiled.

Ceramic tiles of cats and ravens; 

a printed orang-utan with a rubber ducky
I laughed… I cried… I smiled

Hottish water, Epsom bubbles, 

closing eyes and sinking into oblission; a well-read book
I stretched…I smiled… I sighed.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 31 May 2015

Walworth County… “It’s so noisy at the Fair, but all your friends are there”

(with thanks to Neil Young, and dedicated to my Daddy Harold)

Cotton candy clouds;
mounds of icy fleece across the skies
Cotton candy cones;
mounds of sug’ry filaments spun so high.

Rings of ponies painted white,
Rings of travellers ‘gainst the night

Carousel horses stately prance,
Ferris wheel lights circle dance.

Ears of corn, corn-dipped dogs;
Blue ribbon pies, blue-ribbon hogs

Thud of beanbags, clang of bell,
Main-stage performers before day’s knell.

Tired feet, and tired children
Mid-way barks; nowhere for sittin’

Plush stuffed toys that no one’s winning
Travel to another day’s beginning.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 27 May 2015

Who knows where the Time Goes?

(With thanks to Sandy Denny)

Yesterday the world had hope;
each new day was springtime, even in November.

We believed in our objectives
in peace, equality, possibilities, independence;
all we needed was love… Love was all we’d need.

Yesterday we changed the world;
we made love instead of war unless the war was inequality.

We trusted our battles were righteous, our victories lasting;
we marched to end hatred, poverty, segregation.

Yesterday we held hands;
we held strong against hate, against fear, against wrongs,
we stood with our heads high or sat with others against tyranny and fear.

Yesterday we succeeded in changing the world;
but now it’s today, and the world’s been changed anew.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 
© 19 May 2015

“Let Me Call You Sweetheart”

(For Lolly)

A dozen years have sneaked up on me;
it’s really been that long since Twenty 0 Three.

Twelve years of living through pleasure, and pain;
gains, hopes, and losses are all that remain…
except the memories, the joyful anticipation, hope.

It still shines through:
sometimes reflected in crystal and tears;
in clear cups of tea, through windscreens, and rear-facing mirrors.

My stubborn Grandma is long gone… wasn't twelve years a blink ago?
Her 100^th birthday seems last week ‘though lifetimes have come and gone since then.

The family lost, the friendships gained…
It’s a dozen years, and the world has changed.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 
© 17 May 2015

Life is a Wheel… for Sir John and Dame Cleo

 (With thanks and love to Sir John Dankworth)

Every day

my mind reels, my head spins with notions and emotions.

Every night 

the world spins, while storytellers spin their truths.

Every year 

around the sun we spin, trying to keep our balance.

Spinning mobiles 

over babies’ beds, 

Spinning tires 

under children’s bikes,

Spinning axles 

under bus and car,

Spinning wheels under seniors’ chairs;

Spinning hands 

on clock face dials

Turn, turn, turn… Our lives all spin.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

©13 May 2015

Disillusion … “I know it doesn't matter just how hard I try”

(with thanks to ABBA)

Today, like many days, I am in a funk, bummed out, unhappy, non-clinically depressed.

I am exhausted, in pain, frustrated; insecure in my life, wallet, and future.

I am rarely alone, but I am frequently lonely; sometimes I feel invisible and inaudible.

I hate the admission of my neediness, self-doubt, the feeling of emptiness and dissatisfaction;
constant niggling anger at the lack of communication, compassion, and cooperation.

My tolerance for everything is at low ebb; I want my life back.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 22 April 2015

“Blowin’ in the Wind”

 (with thanks to Bobby Zimmerman)

Grant us Peace… Sim Shalom

Exceptionalism?
We are at perpetual war:
Wars on crime, Wars on drugs, Wars on poverty;
have any been won?

Our go-to mode is violence:

Bombs, guns, fists, execution;
why never words, never détente?

We hate with will, with passion, with abandon;
harmony, goodwill, compromise are not in our vocabulary.

Why is the option never coming together for solutions?

Why is the first choice always hostility;
always a clenched fist, never an open hand?

Why are the roads to Peace always thought to be through War?

How many times must we march that road?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 21 April 2015

L’dor Vador… Reprise (for Irmama)

“We are words and we are stories, we are pictures of the past; 

We are carriers of wisdom, not the first and not the last”

I walk alone;
but I am the product of my family.

I am my mother’s style, my father’s strength, my grandmother’s mind, my grandfather’s heart.

My tastes are my own;
but they are the result of a lifetime of influences and perceptions.

I inhabit my own body;
but my features are an amalgam of generations:
my father’s limbs, my great-grandparent’s facial bones, my grandmother’s hair, my uncle’s toes.

I know my own mind;
but my thoughts have evolved from years of nightmares and dreams, experience, and imagination.

We all walk alone;
but our past and all potential futures are always with us.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 10 April 2015

The Truth -Addended for John Lewis and BLM

“This side, that side. That side, this side. What side? Any side. You can't side me” 

(with thanks to Conflict)

Some people fight with stones and mortars,
some with mortar and stone.

Some people fight with swords and bomb blast,
some with ploughshare and seed

Some people fight with fear and fortune, 

some with struggle and love.

Some people fight with lies and panic,
some with compassion and facts.

Some people fight with signboards and sit-ins;

some with tear gas and flags. 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 

© 08 April 2015

Updated 27 July 2020

Easter - "Morning has Broken"

May the Christ, and the Buddha arise in all:
awakening empathy and compassion for those in need of understanding, and realisation of life's truths. 

May those blessed by the cosmic luck of being born or married into great wealth, or the pure luck of finding a life of abundance and fulfilment learn the lessons of hunger, homelessness, fearfulness, and need.

May they discover the Ways of those who's Needs outweigh the Others' ungrateful Wants. 

May those Others discover that there but for serendipitous, two-faced chance go their lives. 

May the surface blessed find the blessings within to aid those without. 



Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 5 April 2015

Operator

Do you find it aggravating that Customer Service Representatives are not and don’t;
infuriating that phones go unanswered, emails un-responded, requests ignored?

Raise your hand if you are tired of having to spend 5 minutes pressing buttons on the phone just to attempt to reach a human being and then being disconnected?

Is it understandable that to everyone that it’s always “my” fault when someone else doesn't do “their” job, but never their fault when their lack of doing negatively impacts “my” ability to do my job?

How come no one listens, concentrates, pays attention, understands what’s being said, or observes what goes on around them? Why is it that someone else’s lack of focus is generally attributed to another person's else’s lack of clarity?

Why is it that those that don’t know-how are usually the ones that direct those that do;
those with no cognition the ones questioning answers, those making the rules are the people who don’t obey the policies, those that say do, don’t?

Why are the worst providers of customer service tech and communication companies?

Why do off-shore phone banks lie about their phone numbers and location?

Why does every single representative, no matter their country of origin or company worked for, all use the same script? "No, you are not sorry for the inconvenience"; it wasn't an inconvenience... it was a complete sodding cock-up!

Ronda R. Scott-Marak 
© 27 March 2015

For Once in My Life

"for once I can say this is mine you can't take it" 

(with thanks to Stevie Wonder)

I am a wannabe: 

a wannabe writer, 

a wannabe singer, 

a wannabe designer, 

a wannabe anthropologist, 

a wannabe “trophy wife”.

I wannabe accomplished,

I wannabe happy,

I wannabe something else, someone else; 

for right now I wannabe content.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 25 March 2015

Freedom

“Sometimes I feel like I’m almost gone” 

(with thanks to Richie Havens)

I so want to wake up to a new beginning,
to see the sun and hear the birds with delight.

I don’t want to dread each new morning,
constantly wishing away the days to the week’s end.

I want days of calm, hours of quiet pleasures or joyous diversions.
I want fun, fresh air, laughter, and long walks, hand in hand.

I want music, theatre, books, and art.

I want to nap with a dog, do the crossword puzzle in bed; 
read into the night.

I want to greet the dawn with coffee on a swing set,
want to close my eyes looking forward to what next I’ll see.

I want time for nothing.

Time to do as I choose; unfilled moments with no plans or regrets.

I want to choose my path, to walk the Labyrinth, to travel freely through my mind.

Freedom to determine my own companions, 
opt for my own desires; make my own choices.

Chart my own journey.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 24 March 2015

“Caught up in Circles- Confusion is Nothing New” …

(with thanks to Cyndi Lauper)

Sometimes losing one’s heart... one's confidence
results in losing one’s mind;

Often we open ourselves to the unknown
to discover we were better off left unaware.

Unfortunately, it takes time to develop familiarity,
time that is not always on our side.

With information comes knowledge,
with experience comes understanding.

With realisation that your information was erroneous,
your instincts inaccurate, your faith unfounded
one needs to retrain the derailed trust.

Sometimes it is harder to learn to trust one’s self again
than to give up one’s trust of others.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 11 March 2015

"I Don't Care What They Say... In a World Without Love"

(with thanks to Sir James Paul McCartney)

I do not believe that success is equated with having lots of money. 

To me, wealth is measured by what one gives back, and not what one takes in. 

No one person, one family, one group deserves, or needs more power, or influence over everyone else; more cash than they can use for a good life for their family without willingly using some of their excess funds for the purpose of "healing the world" rather than an excessive lifestyle. 

Having money and property does not make one better, of more importance, or special... 

It is as much, or more the luck of birth and circumstance than talent, hard work, and deserved. 

I laud no person for greed and compound interest. I celebrate the open mind, hand, and heart.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 07 August 2014

“And it seems like I’ve got to travel on…”

(with thanks to Robert Zimmerman)

We all have landmarks in our days;
our lives are made up of moments,
scents, sounds, pictures that bring us back to where we were.

We have places that trigger the realisation that we’ve reached a momentary goal;
an intersection, an hour, an action that we’ve done what seems an infinite number of times.

We might stop and acknowledge their existence in our lives,
or never even notice that another milestone has passed.

How we live our lives, mark the passing moments,
acknowledge the steps and stops of daily existence
define who we have become…
stopping to view the landmarks, or driving past to the next objective.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 4 March 2015

“Everybody Says Don’t” …With thanks to Stephen Sondheim…

   Sometimes I feel so alone

  even when I’m not feeling lonely.

  Sometimes I just need to talk

  even when there’s nothing to ponder.

  Sometimes I just want a touch

  even when I don’t need embraces.

  Sometimes I want different answers

  even when there aren’t new questions.

  Sometimes I don’t want to be me; 

  tho’ I know there’s no else I can be.

“Make just a ripple; come on be brave, 

this time a ripple, next time a wave”

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 2 March 2015

“Do you hear me now?”

( with thanks to Bert Jansch)

I am soft

I am strong

I want romance

I want respect

I am tender

I am tough

I want to be embraced

I want to be understood

I don’t want to be seen

I want to be heard

I am loyalty

I am flexibility

I am unpredictable

I am security

I am enigma

I am empathy

I am perception

I am paradox

I am Woman!

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 23 February 2015

“Good to be older, would not exchange a single day or a year… Good to be older ah hah, less complications everything clear”

(With thanks to John Lennon)

If it isn’t one thing it’s t’other; 
if it isn’t famine it’s feast.

When the rain stops the draught there’s a deluge, 
and innocent grows into beast.

A moment’s too long or too fleeting; 
all life is too short or drags on.

Life’s oft’ too hard or too simple 
the losses too easily won.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 13 February 2015

Voice-less “When the dawn comes tonight will be a memory too.... and a new day will begin”

( with thanks to Andrew Lloyd Weber, Steven Sondheim, 

and to the memory of my father )

The days slip away
hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second.

The longer passed… the easier to remember
the scents, the sounds;
except for voices…

I can’t recall my father’s voice.

I can recognise voices I haven’t heard in just as long
but to just recall his in my mind’s ear… I can’t.

Events, conversations, stories, visual memories seem sharp
even from a childhood long gone;
some more vague, embellished or diminished when reminiscing…
but not his voice.

The details are all there
the arguments, the trips, the late-night discussions;
our frustrations and successes, our desires and our dreams.

I remember them all
the advice, and admonishments
the battles neither won;
and yet his words are there…
but still no voice.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 6 February 2015

“People who need…” “Who are the…?”

(with thanks to Bob Merrill)

I have lost my trust in the People;

I have lost my confidence in their humanity.

My abstract faith in spirit and benevolence still glows;

my hope that People still have the ability to access it is intact,

but my belief that the People still care wanly flickers.

Have the People lost the ability for compassion?

Have they lost their desire for thought,
to make up their own minds,

to act out of basic kindness and goodwill 
instead of blind self-interest?

Have the People exhausted the innate ability to nurture, to support,
to take an interest?

Is it now always going to be ‘munitions rather than munificence?

Is there anyone left that “will risk his neck for his brother man,”

or have all those in need of a hand, an arm, a shoulder, help forward,
or a step up been permanently given the shaft?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 28 January 2015

“I'm looking through you”… “What did I know?”

(with thanks to Lennon and McCartney)

What do you see when you don’t consciously look; 

when you observe from within, 

when you scrutinise from outside?

What do you see when you look deeply inward; 

peer beyond the well-known, 

examine the unknowable?

Do you see certainty?

Can you comprehend legitimacy?

Have you the vision to recognise Truth?

Is your reality just illusion; 

do your synapses reflect carnival mirrors?

Can you recognise the image in your mind?

Are we really who we think we are, 

who we see in the glass, 

what we hear in our heads?

Is the external world illusory, 

just fantastic dream domains of our own invention?

Or are we merely invisible only to ourselves?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 23 January 2015