Who Shall Say

It’s far too easy to live by the gun,
Dealing death at a distance, at a whim;
With no thought for the deadly damage done,
The loss for loved ones -- loss of life or limb.
Should in this old world, magic be alive,
Should the triumph of justice be its aim;
Firing a weapon would have more to give,
Than merely another one’s life to claim:
Whatever the targeted victim’s fate,
Be it wounding, suffering, even death;
If dealt by avarice, dogma, or hate,
Be lived by the shooter till his last breath.
None have the wisdom, or the right to say,
Who shall suffer loss, or survive this day.

Mick McKellar
January 2018

Let he who is without sin, cast the first bullet…

Mick

A Loving Friend

I cannot read the words behind your eyes,
Nor can I hear the music in your mind.
I little understand your plaintive sighs,
And fail to comprehend what clues I find.
You smile and with uncertainty I grin,
Then panic drives me crazy when you frown.
With your merest suggestion, I’m all in,
And criticism turns my world dark brown.
Though tired, I’m ready anytime to play,
And I will keep you safe both day and night.
I’m sad each time you rise and go away,
And Oh! So happy when you’re in my sight!
I know you’ll understand this without fail,
Because you’ll see that I’m wagging my tail!

Mick McKellar
December 2017

If Dante could write a poem…

Mick

Missing Moments

Their shadows barely touch me,
As each golden day flies past.
Though I reach to slow them down,
My old hands just aren’t that fast,
And I miss them…

I treasure ev’ry second,
So I seek to slow their flight.
I try to fill each moment,
But it doesn’t work out right,
And I miss them…

     Missing moments with the people I love,
     Used to be a normal part of each day;
     Now I treasure each and every one,
     I can’t let a single one get away.

The ticking of my watch is
The constant wash of the tide,
But I can’t swim in the surf,
I’m just along for the ride,
And I’m missing…

     Missing moments with the people I love:
     I try never to let one get away,
     For I treasure each and every one,
     And each one more precious than I can say.

And I miss you…

Mick McKellar
December 2017

Today -- December 26, 2017 -- is the 2500th day since my blood and marrow stem cell transplant on February 21, 2011. It’s a milestone, and a time to reflect on how I am spending the wonderful gift of all these days.

Mick

Lovely Lights

Lovely lights of Christmas,

Touch my heart at night,

When their gleaming prisms,

Capture soft starlight.

Windows filled with color,

Sealed against the cold,

Sing a silent carol,

Precious, deep, and old:

Welcoming each stranger,

Relative, and friend,

In for warmth and kindness,

Freely to extend.

Lovely lights remind me,

Green, gold, and cerise,

Of the gifts of Christmas:

Joyous love and peace.

Mick McKellar

December 2017

Merry Christmas! May you receive the gifts of love and peace.

Mick

Angel in the Snow

I dreamt of a night, robed silver and sable,
A masterwork of the Great Dreamcaster;

And leapt to the sky, a son of fable,
As Christmas joy made my heart beat faster.

I pierced the silence with a mighty cry.

I stretched forth my hand, felt my spirits lift.

It’s then I remembered that I can’t fly,

And fell like a stone into a snowdrift.

The fresh snow was soft and it broke my fall,

So I lay there just staring at the sky.

My pajamas don’t insulate at all,

And soon I would be neither warm nor dry.

I made a snow angel, or at least tried,

And fast as I could, I ran back inside.

Mick McKellar

December 2017

I love my dreams, but reality sometimes figures into the results.

Mick

A Touch of Winter Air

Exotic air falls cool into my chest,

A torrent sweeping deep beneath my heart;

Swift chilling passages with icy zest,

And stilling sudden gasps before they start.

Although I love the thrill of bracing air,

My face may welcome just a touch of frost;

My heart prefers a warmer berth down there,

And not a wintry bed it must defrost.

As I consider, momentarily,

A thought of venturing further outside,

A rasping cough reminds me instantly,

It’s time for me to run inside and hide.

And back into the house I must repair --

To rally from a touch of winter air.

Mick McKellar

November 2017

Every year, I have to learn the same lesson -- my lungs and cold air don’t get along well.

Mick

The Price of Silence

Sunlight dapples darkling streams,
As days morph into nights,
And we mourn our missing dreams --
The loss of basic rights.

Silently we watch them go,
We utter not a cry.
We do not resist the flow,
We do not say: “Goodbye.”

We do not believe our eyes;
We think our ears heard wrong.
When we hear the blatant lies,
We meekly go along.

We watch people full of fear
And hate believe the lie;
Watch as freedoms we hold dear
Are snatched away to die.

We watch as democracy,
The oligarchs will steal;
Patently refuse to see,
The silent coup is real.

We watch a clown dance about;
We laugh at ev’rything,
Till the richest use their clout,
To make that clown our king.

Those who don’t need further wealth,
To satisfy their greed,
Find that money can’t give health.
You can’t eat it in need.

When they die, as we all must,
The legacy they’ll leave:
Piles of poison, trash, and rust;
As silent millions grieve.

This awful scenario;
This dreadful image stands,
If we simply let it go.
If we sit on our hands.

Mick McKellar
November 2017

History tells me that I should be concerned.

Mick