Weekend Poem #1

CarnageWe sit together on our balcony by the coastSipping coffee, reading the papers.A plate of untouched stacked toastIn repose on the table between us.We meditate and take exaggerated deep breaths.Complacent, self-assured smilesAfter all the hard work, all the trekked miles.I write in the margins of a magazine:The surf gently laps against the shoreThe ocean is a flat gray matLapping and lollingBut the early morning ocean sheenUnfurled before us is not a peaceful scene.Before us is a vast, unbeknownst killing fieldAnd the ashen water an impotent shieldExtending westward in ever deafening silenceUntil it ’s cut by a diamond blade of horizonThe predator birds swarm like waspsWe barely notice, lost in smug thoughts.Watch now how the sharp beaked, black-eyed birds recklesslyFling themselves into the seaScooping shimmery spear tips of silvery preyDozens of dive-bombing herons and terns and gullsSwooping, darting, swallowing fish whole.We exchange calm grins and sip from our mugs,Slowly embalmed by the dense, humid air.The balcony is warm but wordless.This is our respite, our chance to repairThe broken promises, the forgotten half shrugsWhile carnage plays out beneath the surface12/17/17

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - December 17, 2017 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs