Categories
Nostalgia Poetry

Re-collection & More

By Melissa A. Chappell

Something Right and Lovely

In the mornings I grind my own coffee,

which comes to me from ridges stranger still.

I watch the panes of light break on the wooden floor.

Shadows of you linger and pass through me,

your face fluid in Richard’s lion-hearted kindness and

the terrible courage of the tree swallow.

Like flowing water, the questions

shall not allow an escape,

but they penetrate every hesitation,

every “no,” every passive voice.

Am I guilty?

Yes. Yes. I am guilty on many counts.

I did not do well enough.

Yet I will say this.

Our loving was honest

and good

and pure.

In the mornings I grind my own coffee.

I listen to the news, the news that is

stranger still,

and I know that

though I am

alone, I will do better.

Yet I know that together,

after so many white lilies

have fallen from the stem,

we did

something right

and lovely

in this world,

and for this,

perhaps a wayward blessing

may sail to you upon

some following breeze.

And justice and passion shall lie in the unharrowed field, 

at rest upon the breast of the Lord.

.

Melissa A. Chappell is a native of South Carolina living on land passed down through her family for over 120 years. She is greatly inspired by the land and music. She plays several instruments, among them an 8 course Renaissance lute. She shares her life with her family and two miniature schnauzers. She recently published Dreams in Isolation: The World in Shadow: Poems of Reconciliation and Hope with Alien Buddha Press.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL. 

Categories
Poetry

Birds Cry

By Melissa A Chappell

What do the birds cry

when the sun sinks upon a killing,

and the taken life feeds the hungering, blood-rich soil of a nation,

as it has for centuries.

What do the birds cry

over this blood that will not lay silent,

but runs restless, a river unencumbered, through the cindered streets.

What did the birds cry

when in such strange times

men drew up other men by ropes

to hang in trees?

What do the birds cry

when after so many words have been written,

so many speeches delivered,

and so many proclamations proclaimed,

that the sun still sinks upon killings unnumbered,

and the soil continues in its greed.

Cry, you birds, what do you cry?

“Silence, silence!

Until justice rises on the wing,

cry silence.”

.

Melissa A. Chappell is a native of South Carolina living on land passed down through her family for over 120 years. She is greatly inspired by the land and music. She plays several instruments, among them an 8 course Renaissance lute. She shares her life with her family and two miniature schnauzers. She recently published Dreams in Isolation: The World in Shadow: Poems of Reconciliation and Hope with Alien Buddha Press.

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL.