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.