Friday October 13, 2023

Peter Tarlton

This doesn’t seem like a joyful Disneyland,

Inundated by texts and emails, political labels,

Intense opinions from friends and media headlines,

Incessant stimulations with questionable content,

While arguments galore obscure our common ground.

What do I sense? Do I sense at all?

Do I choose my feelings? Or do they control me?

What do I think, or am I thinking at all?

My brain flexes like a rubber band, yet can it break?

So many different inputs! Is there time to digest?

Am I in a forest at night, holding a flashlight,

With dead batteries, impossible to find the clearings,

To connect with my soul and give some direction?

Now seems to ask about sustainability, accountability,

Different values and kindnesses learned in my lifetime.

Buckboards had wheels with spokes,

Connecting to Hubs, then axles to other wheels

Rolling along together, all connected

Going somewhere for a shared purpose,

To be found, not lost.

Are there ways for us to connect again, such as

“Hey Bub, can you spare me a dime?”

Or does St. Francis help with Instrument of thy Peace,

Suggesting Whose we are meant to be,

Found in re-member-ing our connective tissues.

Peter W. Tarlton October 8, 2023 New Castle, NH