Photograph

Our walls adorned, things present, past. Captured moments of better times, and some that weren’t so good. Keepsakes for eternity, hung for all to see, treasured occasions caught on film, are framed testaments, life present, past. So often I gaze at these beloved shots, history reclaimed, reflecting on what may have been, family, career and things.

 

Metal framed or vintage wood

Life chronicled, we cherish

Each living piece, reflections

Of a time so long ago

 

Shimmering sea by moonlight

Moss-strewn bark of craggy tree

Dried wedding flower, sealed in glass

Kindly smile, a loved one gone

 

We as infants captured glance

A future to unfold

Portrait on the mantel sits

Eyes dance, her smile, golden hair

 

Silent pride in uniform

Shoulders square in resolute

Grandfather’s gaze so distant

At attention, mid-ship stood

 

Generations’ camera lens

Vivid colour, black and white

Embracing poignant moments

Hopes and dreams in photograph

 

© 2007, Don MacIver

 

 

Cause Without Conscience

I don’t often detract from my usual writings of things poetic and related articling but from time to time I am stricken by horrific events unfolding around the globe. The situation in the middle east is beyond comprehension.

My wish is to share my poetry works and related writings in this space however at times I feel compelled to expound about things political, military, religious or otherwise that I often feel such a deep sense of sadness, loss and frustration over. Although I do not necessarily espouse to support any particular viewpoint on the atrocities that occur across the globe and the attempted means to resolve same, I still can’t help but feel a growing sense of anger and defeat for humanity in general.

That being said I remain an optimist that some day people of war-torn, terrorist-ravaged, impoverished, drug and crime-ridden and hungry nations will rise again. Whether that will take superhuman resolve, faith, unfathomable will, extraordinary military might or otherwise, surely some day people will learn the simple concept that conflict and differences can be resolved without taking up arms, without suicide bombings, or terrorist attacks which remain a threat abroad and at home.

Some time ago I wrote the following piece, amoung others, in the hopes that it may help make a difference in the way human beings deal with their neighbors across borders and those within their own community. If anything I write impacts or somehow influences even one sole on this blessed earth to deal with problems without force, without hate, then that is a start toward something better…one day at a time.

CAUSE WITHOUT CONSCIENCE

 

The strike of the terrorist, death for a cause, lost life of the innocent, without conscience or pause.

 

 

 

A school lays in ruins after the siege

 

The life of young children targets for cause

 

Grief-stricken families gather to mourn

 

Their blessed ones lost, a battle not won

 

 

Blood-stained partitions, a motionless child

 

Cradled in arms of a mother despaired

 

Senseless, perverse this slaughter is staged

 

Snuffing out life without guilt, without pause

 

 

On a hill high above the battlefield stands

 

Tiny white crosses atop shallow graves

 

An uneasy stillness looms in the air

 

Cease this madness, no more killing and fear

 

 

copyright 2004 by Don MacIver

A Place of Shelter, Not A Home

Living on the street has evolved, once perhaps out of necessity, a destitute existence, a war of survival. Now life on a park bench or storefront step is that and much more. Perspective taints this curious and sad picture, everything from a lifestyle choice to a pathetic, freestyle social annoyance to be disdained much more easily than regarded with any sense of empathy or unconditional acceptance. To reflect here immune of prejudice would perhaps be a great falsehood.

Having never had first hand experience I can only anticipate with some trepidation the experience, the hunger, the fear that pervades on the streets today.

Feelings of emptiness, cast out alone, nothing but the street to call their home. Hungry, disillusioned, the elements feared, life on a doorstep, a prisoner to the cold….

Huddled in the din of lamp post glare

Cold of the night grips of my bones

Fluid on fire rages deep in the lungs

Sickened, alone, desperate for sleep

Passers by vent disdain for my kind

Downward glances, grimace of hate

Vilify my being, cast me aside

Ignore my reality, turn away

Untouched by my hunger, void of guilt

Not a penny you spare from pockets deep

Angry avoidance, eye contact forbid

Apologetic without acceptance

A concrete doorstep, shelter awaits

The poor and forgotten, scourge of life

Raise not your hand, impoverished one

Unwelcome castaway, disappear

Tears well in eyes shadowed by pain

Defeat engulfs this forgotten soul

Death be my demon lurking near

I’m stricken, empty, resented, alone

 

The homeless community is increasing in numbers exponentially in many urban centres. The how and the why are complex questions that seem to beg answers. Perhaps with time and generous helpings of ingenuity and foresight resolve may be reached as to what, if anything, can be done to change this situation.

Copyright 2004 by Don MacIver

Thank You Dad

Fathers are many things to many people. As a father myself I have had plenty of time over the years to reflect upon what a father should be, or at least strive to be.

As a young and growing child we look up to our father, literally and figuratively. We see dad as being strong, capable and achieving, idealistic, contemplative, stern, authoritative, disciplinary, loving, understanding, sometimes confused or angered by our actions, giving of guidance…and so much more.

A parent is perceived in many different ways by their child, hopefully with love, admiration, respect and most of all perhaps…with great thanks.

We think back to our teenage years especially when we weren’t so sure of dad’s motives or intentions and our moodiness, anger, obstinacy and rejection of all things parental was at the forefront of our existence. Having had teenage kids of my own I now understand the many complexities and frustrations on both sides.

Fathers have, or perhaps should have, a great sense of anxiety and anticipation as they watch their children grow into young adults, struggling with their own sense of purpose, self-worth and accountabilities in the world around them.

Our local community, and indeed around the globe, has changed dramatically over the decades, in some ways more tolerant and in many respects much less tolerant. Social pressures of today seem monumental in size and complexity.

Fathers so often look back to the way things were when they were a child and struggle with understanding the choices and decisions of today. How do I, as a father, act or react upon a situation today that may have been handled so differently in years past? Will it be so difficult for my sons and my grandchildren in the years ahead?

Despite the many challenges in life today we should ever be thankful for all the goodness, love and caring that parents provide over the years through good and bad. After all, we as parents only want the very best for our children and hopefully we suitably convey that wish to our kids without prejudice.

And so it is with these few thoughts that I give pause to give love and thanks to my own father who has given so much of himself over the years to see that his family has had the very best that life can offer.

Father’s arm by shoulders reach

An outstretched hand he greets

Guiding, calming, reassures

Support in every sense

Firm to right a seeming wrong

A knowing glance, few words

Convey his presence, fortitude

So meaningful his ways

Lead us Dad towards a path

Your feet would surely walk

Thank you Dad for all you are

And we aspire to be

Love, Your Son

Friends around the globe, please join me to give thanks and admiration this Father’s Day.