A Time of Assassins

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To the Editor:
Despite all the cheering over the killing of Osama Bin Laden, I felt a deep sadness not only that assassination has become so widely accepted as an American military and diplomatic tool, but also that, as a nation, we have again chosen to move forward in history by killing people.  If Bin Laden were indeed unarmed, do we attribute his death to a Presidential directive or to a soldier acting individually in a tense moment?  Will his death have any lasting effect on our “War on Terror”, a war that more and more seems to have no ending point?  Warfare is deeply entrenched in America’s history, but it should be noted that being in a permanent state of war is precisely what brought down Athens, the city-state generally regarded as the foundation of  democracy and of Western civilization itself.  It is a shame that Martin Luther King’s legacy of non-violent action is now so cavalierly termed “childishly naive”.
RP

Loving Ayn Rand

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To the Editor:
    It is no surprise that Conservatives, who see themselves as part of a plutocratic elite destined to power, would find affinity with the Superman myths of Ayn Rand’s writing.  However, while heroic individualism is one part of human survival, a successful culture is one with a social contract that balances the needs of society with those of the individual.  Ben Franklin can be called a hero for establishing the U.S. Postal Service as an institution that benefited all of America.  Under Ms. Rand’s generally sociopathic philosophy, he was a fool for not doing it for his own profit.  Then again, maybe if the Post Office issued a “Forever Stamp” honoring Ayn Rand, Republicans might start supporting our postal workers.
RP

Whither goest thou?

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To the Editor:
Given China’s economic gains, the possibility rises that it may be following a business model superior to our current path.  Unlike here, the Chinese government has a firm oversight of its growing economy.  Compensation is regulated, profits benefit the entire nation, and corruption and mismanagement are severely punished, even to the point of death.  Here, on the other hand, corporate campaign money controls the government, with  lobbyists actually writing regulatory legislation.  CEO’s are compensated royally, profits go mainly to a small, already wealthy, elite class, and mismanagement is often rewarded with a year-end bonus. Tax breaks were even given to companies for taking their jobs and technical expertise overseas.
Further, China has generally relied on a traditional capitalist approach to gaining prosperity.  It is investing money (much of it American consumer dollars) in its manufacturing and transportation infrastructure, in education for its youth, and in peacefully securing resources for its industrial growth, while we in the West have gotten so bogged down in unending wars and occupation of oil-producing nations in the Middle East that our longstanding support for education, infrastructure, and social safety nets is now being termed, “no longer affordable”.  This seems an odd tale of two nations heading in vastly divergent directions.
RP

The Apple Blossom Pool

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On the placid, limpid

apple blossom pool

water striders in hunt

skate and skip

among white petals

fallen, floating gently adrift.

A gust of wind,

quickening, fills the air

and dimpled pool again

with speckling sails of light.

Startled waterside

a band, a bursting multiplicity

of small blue butterflies

scatter, swirling,

“winking and blinking”,

in periwinkle petaled flight.

The Sudden Robin

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The Sudden Robin

 

The sudden robin

And following, falling,

Meadowlark lilt sound,

Resound, echoing and cascading

With and in my meandering heart,

With the selfsame pastel startlement

Of lupine and yarrow and wild rock rose

Bursting unbidden, source unseen,

Through the evening light watercolor

Wash of grays and blues settling

Suffused in soft concert cast across

The many mottled greens

Of this wondered

And wandering world.

 

Taking Time

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taking time

 

taking time to see,

to clearly see, the tan

curling, swirling

stance and dance

of sunlit, windblown

winter grass

 

taking time to hear,

to note the chorus,

the lilt and line

of winds passing overhead

through a long-needled,

red-barked, ponderosa pine

 

taking time to read,

to carefully read the tangled

fractal calligraphy

of countless, leafless,

living branch and tree

 

taking time to let seep

deep within

the sweet fragrance,

the shadow and light,

this lasting breath

of earth and life

 

and taking time to never

let pass by unseen

the silvered gleam

of lingering ice

in a trickling, dancing,

softly singing stream