Randy Smith
Syrian Cat
A soldier shares so a cat can be fed.
At first, the photo appears black and white
But the cat is orange, the man’s headscarf red.
The grime of battle has made hues less bright.
How many wars have in Aleppo waged?
And how often, in this city made bleak,
Has this exact performance been restaged
By Hittite, Turk, Persian, Roman, or Greek?
Speaking of this act seems a waste of breath.
That a sad man and lost cat should have met
Among such destruction, despair, and death
Is an encounter without sense. And yet.
Two creatures communing contentedly
Is like a glimpse of what the world should be.
Far Ahead
The bright sun made the beach an immense spread
Of blinding whiteness and oppressive heat.
But with scoop and pail, the child trudged ahead
While hot sand stung his tiny, tender feet.
Parents and brothers, specks along the shore,
Called for him to join them in the sea spray.
But each ebbing tide pool tempted him more
And whispered he should stop and with them play.
In one pool, he cooled his toes and giggled,
Then saw nearby a giant seaweed strand,
A lurking monster that shook and wiggled.
Scared, he stood and on his little legs ran.
The hourglass has often turned. Light’s grown dim.
And those who called to him from that far shore
Now beckon him in other waves to swim.
He knows that of time there is not much more.
But in dreams, he still sees that white, wide band.
Of seaweed monsters, tempting pools, and sand.
Surprised Lover
What’s in this word love that used without thought
Conjures itself from seeming emptiness,
Used as tender for something to be bought,
Refunds buyer with greater kindliness?
On the night I saw you, I wanted you.
And acted a part, to that role giving
All the attributes that lovers do,
Never dreaming my lie I’d start living.
For when our naked bodies were enrapt,
I feigned passions that were not truly felt,
Then found myself within those passions trapped.
The firm line between truth and lie did melt.
In the doing, I found false become true,
And ne’er felt before what I felt for you.
When lovers become strangers
What moment were we sure our love was past,
Our good-byes simply a matter of time?
Was it on the beach that day overcast,
That day your hand felt light and dry in mine?
Lovers, younger lovers, kissed and made out
Right there on the sand. What light hearts had they!
Mentioned not by us, but envied, no doubt
For their warm love on that cold, cloudy day.
Tired, you tried napping. I tried a book.
But its pages flipped and from my hand hung.
I felt lonely, but to you could not look.
Even your name felt foreign on my tongue.
And mixed with the pain I knew would follow,
From that day forth all things became hollow.
