Waiting

We wait for the
Closing moments
To really own it,
And when I say “it,”
Let me be more precise.
I mean love, laughter, liberty,
Shared moments with friends and family,
Miss out on those Tuesdays with Morrie,
In pursuit of advancing careers,
Consume 50 billion pills of aspirin each year,
Placating headaches of inferiority,
And the fear of an insignificant existence.

And as this globe swells with misdirected hostility,
Some people treat relationships like an investment,
So you’re either an asset, or a liability.
And the trash laying on the streets,
Sitting on the side of the highway,
Or abandoned community gardens,
Is just a reflection of the psyche of humanity,
The contamination of our inner space.

Yes, we have made sacrifices
In the advancement of mankind.
Taken over one hundred million
Lives of our own,
In the twentieth century alone.
And we continue to exploit mother earth,
Not acknowledging the risks.
But capital won’t mean much,
Without a place to exist.

And it starts to get late, the
world seems to take its shape,
And some can’t help being bitter,
When they’re forced to place their dreams
And aspirations on the back burner.

It’s not exactly how Dr. King pictured it, is it?
Things always seem happier in the postcard, but
Resort walls often hide the abject reality outside.

See, I believe that we were meant to live for more,
And the only thing blocking the proverbial door – US.

Yes, justice sometimes eludes the judicial system,
And we feel the ever-present pull of material contradictions,
With so many lives affected by substandard conditions.
But until we acknowledge that taking more
Than one actually needs hurts everybody,
Things won’t ever really change.
When individual wealth accumulates,
Unchecked and uncharitable,
Then we all feel growing pains.
All you have to do is catch the news,
To watch the madness at play.

Now sure, we won’t all be Bono, or Bill Gates.
But you can reach out to those close to you,
Strangers, too.
Because everyone needs some attention,
A human connection.
It is the fifth dimension,
The greatest lesson,
The most-high blessing,
This love that I know,
And I refuse to let it go.

Poetry by Ted Boughter-Dornfeld Copyright © 2011

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