untangling the web

poetry about and photography of everyday happenings and sights


Leave a comment

We Must Hope

When hatred and retribution

are the order of the day,

out front my lilies bloom

in red, orange, yellow, and peach.

When university presidents are

pushed out for what they believe,

my dog’s fur remains soft

and her ears ever so silky.

When people yearning for

a better life are arrested,

my air conditioner keeps us

cool on a 100+ degree day.

While people are dying in

Gaza, Iran, Israel, and Ukraine,

I see turtles sunning themselves 

at the edge of the pond.

When past presidents

are called “stupid,”

children are laughing and

playing around the world.

When vaccines are deemed

unnecessary and harmful,

doctors and nurses continue

to speak up for their efficacy.

When sycophants bow down

to a bully of a leader,

People peacefully protest

at “No Kings” rallies.

At this distressing time

in our history, we must

hold on to hope and beauty,

and speak truth to power. 


1 Comment

Thoughts

My husband and I and our dog Luna drove into the city yesterday to hike across the new Potterfield Bridge and then through the woods and back across the James River to Belle Isle, an island located at the fall line of the James with a beautiful view of the rapids as well as Hollywood Cemetery and the Richmond skyline. The day was perfect for a long hike—cool and sunny after several days of rain. Many people were out to enjoy the water and the fresh air — young and old, black and white and brown, dogs and children.

Belle Isle has not always been a happy place. During the Civil War it was an open-air Confederate prison camp with minimal shelter. The facility was built for 3,000 prisoners but reports say that this number was doubled or tripled at times. This overcrowding resulted in multiple health issues and the heat in the summer and cold in the winter added to the prisoners’ problems. A sign on the island says that 1,000 Union soldiers perished while there.

As we sat on the rocks at water’s edge refreshing our tired feet in the cold James River, Luna nearby, I could not help but wonder what the 1,000 Union soldiers who died on this island would think if they knew people were still fighting the war for which so, so many gave their lives.