While the churches keep turning a back
on compassion, condoning the pack
of unholy behavior
that summons no savior
for immigrants under attack…
and the health of the nation’s in peril
because of increasingly feral
resistance to glean
benefits of vaccine
to encompass the whole human barrel…
and the workers are saddled with debt
by the predator class who abet
exploitation of minions
by driving opinions
that fairness to all is a threat…
and with few on alert to the whiff
of the greedy tyrannical skiff
that’s engaging the motors
to overthrow voters,
democracy’s over a cliff.
Lest we lose any semblance of hope
while unrolling the last foot of rope,
tie a knot in the end
and let’s try to pretend
that we’re not on a slippery slope.
2021 Mary Boren
When I witness your existence
as you navigate the distance
from the origin of purpose to the peak,
I am humbled by persistence
past the line of least resistance
in your resolute pursuit of what you seek.
While invincibly curtailing
paralytic fear of failing
you are crushing obstacles along the path.
Does the mountain you are scaling
lead to summit views unveiling
the reward for struggle in its aftermath?
Let us climb the hill together
as we both escape the tether
of conditioning that binds us to our birth,
for the thesis isn’t whether
we are made of wood or leather
but how feathered faith can soar above the earth.
2021 Mary Boren
I see you coming, melancholy mood,
descending like a demon eighteen-wheeler
from out of nowhere racing to occlude
my passage through perception’s truth-concealer.
I’m drifting in bewildering terrain,
white-knuckled now, my eyes are turning glassy.
As wretched shocks dislodge me from my lane,
I can’t escape the damage to my chassis.
With wanderlust careening off the road,
it takes a heap of strength to hold the center.
The labored engine threatens to explode
before my awe-struck psyche starts to splinter.
But wait—I have a built-in safety pillow—
I’ll stomp the brakes and let the airbags billow!
2020 Mary Boren
(in response to Lord Byron’s “Remembrance“)
I, too, have felt devoid of hope
while trapped within the narrow scope
of vigilance between the dreams.
When pessimism runs amok,
it’s difficult to stop and pluck
a thread of reason through the seams
that bind the soul’s imaginings.
But past the point of “All is Lost”
exists a realm where Fear is crossed
with Love, and there resemblance ends.
Forgotten soon, life’s petty woes
reveal themselves as beggar’s clothes
unfit to touch the royal skins
of you and me and all our friends.
2013 Mary Boren
Based on the teachings of A Course in Miracles
Behind each errant thought there hangs a thread
of continuity, a knowingness
that’s hidden by an unrelenting fear
of meaningless existence. Only in
suspended judgment can the truth emerge.
When ego is subjected to the light,
illusion evanesces. One by one,
each child of God, awakening, recalls
his rightful heritage of endless love,
for separation never has occurred.
Now, following the thread back to its source,
we see the world for what it is, a screen
projecting unreality, a blip.
The little willingness is all it takes
to conquer thought and matter, time and space.
In the soft lavender haze,
three does graze in the yard.
Heads down, of necessity;
guard lowered … never.
As I tiptoe to a closer vantage point,
my knee brushes the rocker by the window
and it protests with a gutteral creak.
Instantly, they morph
into a trio of lawn statues.
Seconds pass like minutes.
They leap the tall grass
in a single scattershot blast!
Moving in unison
on a primal cue,
they have melded into the trees
before I can remember to exhale.
Seated with my coffee, in the comfort
and relative safety of home,
curiosity sets in.
(It could kill the cat,
but lack of it can down a deer.)
Was there ever a time they knew trust,
or were they predestined prey?
Is raw fear the trade-off
for beauty, grace,
and direct communion with the earth?
Could humans adapt
to live in such a state
of perpetual anxiety?
Or have we?
2011 Mary Boren
“I am never upset for the reason I think.” – A Course in Miracles
When the hairdresser clips you entirely too close;
when your child shows a penchant for sass;
when the seminar speaker is waxing verbose;
when your hero falls flat on his ass …
and a flood of emotion’s creating a stink
in your mind, STOP! Consider the fact
that you’re never upset for the reason you think.
You can choose how you want to react.
If you scrape off the crust of resentment or rage,
you’ll uncover a cowering imp
that is clutching a plagiarized script. On the stage,
he’s an icon. Exposed, he’s a wimp.
His persona’s all hype — “too ferocious to tame” —
but he only appears to exist
in the absence of love. Simply call him by name,
“little fear,” and he’ll fade into mist.
2010 Mary Boren