Righting Reflexes

Our colossus still stands

at our sea-washed, sunset gates

her torch still welcomes

your tired, your poor,

your huddled masses yearning,

a life saving response to our families,

once come to these shores

with the feeling of falling off the edge

between their old and new life.

 

Our declaration still speaks

“life, liberty, and the pursuit

of happiness,” offering safety

for our welcome masses;

now feeling imbalance,

uncertainty; we are in need

of a way for love to trump hate,

we need a righting reflex

some transformation,

twist, and recover– like a cat —

pinned with our belief

that an open heart

can be a call for unity,

can land us on our feet.

 

 

Terror

The world is crying

and we can’t dry all the tears

the pools are overflowing

and we can’t turn the spigot off

can’t find the valve through miles

and miles of piping mired

in years and years of anger and hurt,

twisted with the callings of gods

tangled in the web of religions’ names

lost in the politics of human greed

 

The world is crying

and we can’t turn the spigot off

our forever is coming close to an end

and we can’t save the world

by killing nature, neighbor, and reason,

twisted with the callings of gods

tangled in the web of religions’ names

lost in the politics of human greed —

how do you spell human beings’

finale in a drowning demise of hate?

 

Phyllis Carito earned her MFA at Manhattanville College, and teaches Creative Writing at SUNY Columbia-Greene Community College. Her publications include a novel, Worn Masks, and a chapbook, “barely a whisper.” Other published work has appeared in Stone Highway Review, Passager, Inkwell Review, Voices in Italian Americana, Vermont Literary Review, and Returning Woman.