“There comes a time when silence is betrayal.”
The words of Doctor Martin Luther King
hang heavy in the air. Intentions fail
to halt the arc of hatred’s brutal swing.
The centuries of organized oppression
are coming to a climax. You and I
must take a stand for justice. Shy discretion
is not a virtue when the stakes are high.
As hard-won rights are carelessly dismantled
before our eyes, the growing battle zone
erupting in the streets cannot be handled
with slacktivism. None should march alone.
Resisting with a vengeance, beat the drum
and shout in unison, “The time has come!”
Mary Boren, 2017
In truth, I wasn’t looking when you fanned
the cards (nor did I count them, I confess).
Initially I held the better hand
but yours was played with preconceived finesse.
Oblivious to what was being dealt,
I met your gaze and honestly believed
in what I thought I saw and what I felt.
You never blinked; just played the ace you’d sleeved.
No use in looking back on burning trumps
or bridges. Though, of course, I’d never choose
to play if I had known, guess only chumps
keep staking what they can’t afford to lose.
I’m beaten. Mine’s the sorrow; yours the shame.
One’s leap of faith is just another’s game.
Mary Boren, 2003
A tentative relationship
lies ribboned, sliced in pieces.
With each destructive, callous clip,
the agony increases.
Tomorrow will undoubtedly
find raging storms subsided,
but, for today, what’s left of me
feels conquered, twice-divided.
As waves of raw emotion crest
and anger wells within me,
engulfed in seeming nothingness,
assurance flickers dimly.
While in the desert of despair,
I’ll cease redundant weeping;
my soul, impervious to wear,
is safe in heaven’s keeping.
Mary Boren, 2003