Pockets of Light
Stand you firm upon solid ground
yet island it may seem,
though taint of madness fast increase
I share with you this dream.
Across the globe a sickness grows
of virus planned and deadly,
as even now you see the signs
yield not to this bleak medley.
The Horsemen have once more let loose
upon a much-trained folk,
apocalypse of dismal tune
though many rashly joke.
There is no humor to this tale
that scans across the sea,
for I have seen insidious growth
they seek the brave and free.
Others of a weaker blend
have swallowed bait and hook;
no longer do they think or act,
blind eyes replace the book.
Their thoughts no longer keen exist;
respect for life seems dimmed,
though some of us still hear the notes
of freedom’s brightest hymns.
Blinded by machines and fads
and products most obscene,
the eyes of men have long gone blank
now programmed by the screen.
Titles rank and promised gifts
replace Man’s truth and duty,
once held so dear by one and all
compassion, love and beauty.
Our earth once known to birth us all
as mother to our joy,
now bleeds and sorrows in her pain,
a spoiled child’s toy.
Their lies throughout the world now spread
as elitists steal control,
they’ve aborted from each man and child
their spirit… and their soul.
But wait! before the sky goes dim,
mismanaged by these few,
we must establish islands;
I’m speaking now of YOU.
For still within the multitudes
of those whose eyes are blank,
are tiny bits of scattered light
and these I mean to thank.
We need to spread the quiet word
established deep within,
that if one soul still stands apart
protect him! bring him in!
Share your strength and courage
with others you shall meet,
but carefully reveal yourselves
and live by thought and feats.
Be wary of the blinded ones
for dangerous their plight,
as they will try to drag you down:
stand firm in freedom’s fight!
Be cautious of whom you trust
as you become most rare,
and seek out those with hearts like yours
they’re scattered everywhere.
Know when to speak and what to say,
protect your wit and might,
then join with others such as you
in pockets filled with light.
Stand you firm or bend at will
to nurture well this dream,
that madness can be cured at root
though deadly it may seem.
Send forth your strength and comfort
to those not yet gone blind,
and gather then more bits of light
each ray that you can find!
For goodness gathers as it grows…
on nurturing it thrives,
and madness shrinks when understood
by healthy wholesome lives.
This is not the end…
I write to feel better, in life to be effective…
To shift my inner balance and gain a clear perspective.
I write to sing a love song, my thanks for daily cheer…
To alter moods within me and soothe my every fear.
I write to leave a record, my living history…
Because it’s all important, at least it is to me.
I write to know my feelings, like any other man…
To deep explore my inner realm and thus… to understand.
Diana Hunter McGuerty has been a teacher for over 35 years and a lifetime poet.