Kati Short writes

FOR PITTSBURGH

The weather is beautiful  as

the earth prepares herself for the    

coming change . . . the death that comes

each year so the rebirth can follow.

This year is different this year it feels

as though earth is raising her arms

lifting her eyes kneeling before our

universal creator and begging for mercy

mercy for herself—ravaged by humanity—

mercy for all creatures—ravaged by humanity—

mercy for humanity—ravaged too by humanity.

How can we find comfort when our natures

impel us toward self-centered choices?

More importantly how can we ease suffering

when me, my, I come first? Where do we go?

What do we do? How do we convince those

callused by their own pain to feel for others? 

How can we stop injury and begin healing?

Pittsburgh, I am sorry. I will try to be kinder,

more generous and more compassionate.

Kati Short writes

KOREAN FAREWELL

Today we said goodbye again 

this time to three, two angels 

and a storm. One angel is a 

mediator—mild and gentle, 

sun on a freezing day, rain 

for parched souls. She lives 

with the storm, good of heart, 

yet ever raging to control, 

ever trying to drive out flaws. 

Together they are balanced.

My dear sister-friend another 

angel said goodbye too—off 

for a new adventure, for another 

life. A hole burns in my heart. 

I have lost a piece of me. 

Today the heavens wept.

The rainy season started 

on time this year. Is the 

divine controller weeping too?

The highway was clogged 

a truck tried to visit the 

riverside garden by breaking 

through a guardrail. The 

driver was hurt, the truck 

split. It took two hours to 

drive fifteen miles. 

We drivers wept.

I contemplated my loss 

as I sat and waited. 

I wept.

Later, going sixty miles an hour 

I saw a stainless steel kitchen sink 

right in the middle of the ‘spressway.

I laughed. I must be in Korea.

 

Kati Short writes

Thoughts on Robbinson Jeffers' Poem

“Summer Holiday”

I read a poem today by a real poet

one of those famous ones whose name

everybody knows and says, oh yeah, I’ve

heard of him. The first time I read the

poem I thought of what a cool thing to

write about and what a cool take on the subject

Then I looked at the poem and thought

of my friend who wants commas everywhere.

She would hate that poem. Of course then

a bunch of people would say I don’t know

about poetry and I’m not sure I understand this poem

but if they read the poem again and paid attention

to the words and didn’t try to get all weird about it

I think would really like this poem I read today.

 Robinson Jeffers -- Justin Sloan