Arlene Corwin writes

Watching The Signs With Sighs

No journalist, I – 

No Instagramer, Twitterer,

No any out-in-worlder;

Only poet, intellect,

A heart

That tries not to be sentimental,

Hooked upon emotion –

So, and too misleading, to mis-reading,

Impulse and projection

Of our egotistic needs.

Yet,

One cannot

Resist it all:

The evil of it all,

Coming, going, fooling one

Into believing

That a calm will always be.

Last night a ventured coup in Turkey,

Night before, Bastille Day in Nice:

Terror, violence, crushed, the try

At overthrow!

I just don’t know –

I’m speechless, but confess

I must write something, being helpless too. 

To cry and yelp

Is not to help. 

I’m here, on paper writ.

That’s it.

Tree of Fire -- Deborah Nell