Sequoia

What do we stand for,

Now that we are sitting,

Sitting, and watching

Our brave country die?

What do we stand for

When purling and knitting,

Knitting cocoons

Where we’ll curl up and hide?

What do we hope for

When we are so silent,

Silently waiting

For others to act?

What do we hope for

When leaders all protest

The people who protest,

Redress, and react?

What do we vote for

When our own aesthetic—

Which leans apathetic,

Pathetic–disgusts?

What do we vote for

When leaders stay loyal

To leaders, who foil

Their duties to us?

What do we do now,

Now that we are humbled,

And find ourselves tumbling

Past our worst fears,

And into the darkness,

Abyss of the hopeless,

The helpless, the pointless,

To stay there for years?

What do we stand for

When no one is standing?

Who’s now commanding

Who? What of our friends?

What do you stand for,

Sequoia of Freedom,

When fools wield a chainsaw

Portending your End?

For a poem about another fearful time preceding Hurricane Milton in Florida, read The Corner. For a poem about what we should look for in a leader, read The Measure of a Man. For poems about Ukraine, read Sovereign and The World Police and Summer Playground and Worthy. For a publication about immigration and the cost of war, including my poem “Choice” about Ukraine enduring bombings, at the beginning of this three-year war, get Border Beats: Writing Across Boundaries An Anthology.