Several Noteworthy Atrocities

We didn’t have the Annual Harvest Festival

Because of the marauders

Packs of them scaled the castle walls

And kidnapped three

Out of our four princesses

And one of the princes

Although he seemed to go willingly

And someone even claimed to hear him yell--

‘Yippee!  I’m a marauder now!’

As the savages

Were vacating

The kingdom

The tragedy rang so high and loud

That a celebration seemed inappropriate

And so we did not rejoice

Not even a bit

The Silver Ceremony was cancelled

When the Queen died suddenly

Of a mysterious illness

Shortly after she finished eating

A wild boar--uncooked

Her Majesty always did have

Odd dietary habits

But this one might have finally

Done her in

Despite her quirks

She was a beloved monarch

And so it was decided

That all events relating

To the Silver Nights

Would be indefinitely postponed

We did not rejoice

Not even a bit

The New Year festivities

Had to be gotten rid of

When the plague hit

And the Lovers Long Day

Was erased

Due to the second plague

We have plagues

Every few weeks now

And they always seem to arrive

At the most unreasonable time

...Not that there’s a reason time for a plague, but…

Why is it on days we mark for sun

We get rain

Calendars with ‘Joy’ written in

Find themselves stained with grief instead

Perhaps it is the lord’s way

Of reminding us

That we are not in control

Of time or destiny

We cannot say it should be one way

Because of this or that remarkable moment

We have chosen to celebrate

Perhaps it is meant to teach us

That we should celebrate when we can

And not work up to it

Or wait for time to tell us

When it’s ready

When my wife died

A few days

Before my little daughter’s birthday

My daughter told me

She would never want

To have a birthday again

I told her that her mother

Would be very cross

To hear her say that

‘All right,’ she said, ‘But no birthday this year’

I sat her on my knee

And told her

That if we let life’s arrows

Stop us

From living

We shall never live

That tragedies happen every day

To someone

Whether we know it or not

And that if we wish to thank the world

For its harvest

We should do so

And not worry about the clouds

Coming in

Or the cough that won’t go away

‘My daughter,’ I said, ‘The world will not always be a friend walking beside you.  Sometimes it will be a man with a sword. Sometimes an unfed dog. Sometimes a jester.  Sometimes a lover who breaks your heart. It will sometimes be a place to explore and examine, and other times, it will be a place to survive in.  These are surviving times. And in surviving times, it’s not appropriate to let go of opportunities for mirth because of several noteworthy atrocities.  In fact, it’s the last way to live. To surrender. Now, what sort of cake would you like? We have pig’s blood to turn the frosting red and the goats should be all right to milk provided their udders aren’t still green.’

While my little girl checked on the livestock

I said a prayer of thanks

To my late wife

To guiding my wisdom

While speaking to our child

Then I made a quick note in my ledger

To go see the village doctor

About that spot on my back

After the birthday party, I told myself

It can wait until then