Constancy of change

The Road To Recovery

kikirosner

The Romans

Fought, Conquered, Built

Engineered, Strove

A blend of enlightenment

and ruthlessness

they read papyrus books

Codices

furnished lavish Libraries

emulating the Egyptians

*

crisscrossing Europe with roads, aqueducts

and Arenas

they Ruled and Conquered

until they no longer did

*

the lengthy decline

immeasurable in real time

a steady collapse

such a cake

insufficiently leavened

cautiously sits instead of standing

from one generation to another

incrementally slipping

catching itself

then slipping a bit more

*

the Undoing of Civilization

culture, knowledge –

Worms yes, Invasions, Fire indeed

Time, certainly,

but more than that, Ignorance

engendering more Ignorance

until no one reads

except a handful in charge

No more principles of Life

only principles of Fear –

*

From illiteracy and terror

a darkness hovered for millennia:

the earth once round

was now flat, the sun

as center spurned

human Parthenogenesis

a fact

the importance of clean water, forgotten

questioning forbidden,

any attempt at dissolving dimness,

viciously repressed

*

Until ever so slowly,

we Progressed Back

to the Humanities

 salvaging ancient manuscripts

repossessing reading, examination, discussion

simultaneously galvanized by

and galvanizing the Printing Press

Empowering Minds

at once Philosophical and Mathematical

Exposing a World

of Objective Reality

no more the realms of revelation

rather the laws of physics

no longer the punishing guilt and suffering

of an immaterial god

but cause and effect

of a Beautiful Sentient Universe

made of atoms, void

magnetic fields

*

and nothing else

*

The Thinning

kikirosner
Art Work By Yaron Rosner

Art Work By Yaron Rosner

Winter has numbed us in ice,

faced with mounting crystals

your presence retreats

 

I turn in circles

 

books unopened, pens untouched

the day runs by, meals made,

a night, another day,

 

I turn in circles

 

feeling you wane

as if your breath were fainter

your body more transparent

preparing your soul

to lift from its bones

home for 88 years

 

I turn in circles

 

From armor to onion skin

a warrior’s challenge

to go in peace

without fanfare, artifice

or gun powder

 

rather a slow fading of the edges

a pacifying of the will

a softening of your ardor

now saved for me, only

 

and in the wake of your silent withdrawal,

you leave an emptiness I apprehend

 

and I turn in circles

 

 

To my father, 4 years before you passed

 

****

The Vessel

kikirosner

Close to Shore

She Yearns

Anchored in the Bay

She gently Rocks-

back and forth

the handling

hull scrubbing

commotion

Delays-

the Captain draws

long  breaths

leaning forward

into the Journey

Ahead-

everyday the comings

and goings intensify,

the Hesitaters

kick sand on the beach

looking at their feet

should I go or should I stay?

The volume rises, the pitch

Escalates

Anticipation Magnifies

Until one morning

the Bustle gone

we wake to an unsettling

Stillness,

peering across the Water

there She is

a shape in the distance

dissolving into the Horizon

while the sand kickers

continue shuffling

one foot to another,

She is on her Way

valiantly focused

on catching the Wind

in her sails

meeting each Wave

Evenly

Never to Return as She Left

*

Photograph by Nick Zungoli

Photograph by Nick Zungoli

The Badlands Of March

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To the Inhabitants of the Great North American East

 

In the Bleak, see acrimonious,

terrain of March,

(a March still frozen, encrusted

with swathes of rancid snow)

 

there is no Promise

no hope, just desolation,

what appears a permanent

Wasteland

shows no signs

of its Gestating depths

of the buried Life

deep at work,

unalterably,

renewing itself

 

Sap Rising

that mounting Force

Strong As Life Is Strong

Indomitable as it is,

mirrors our Wonder

at seeing it burst

forth, when desperate

and wasted,

we least expect it

Photograph by Pattie Schaefer

Photograph by Pattie Schaefer

Listening To Birds

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The whispers of Centuries

passed down

in code,

such Cellular messages

repeating themselves incessantly

to the same End

 

There is no time lost

she sayslistening to birds gold

only time deepened

 

the repetition, of a stutter

a Call,

the re-enactment

of a moment

 

Nothing is forfeited in Repetition

we repeat the moment

unequivocally,

until we Seize the moment

or don’t

 

My Man On The Bleachers

kikirosner

You sit by me, Waiting

Patiently

*

I thought I might move Over,

make some Space

between us

*

Who are you?

sitting beside me

the Field before us

Empty

*

Are you here to Gather

as I am,

Reassemble

the bits and pieces

which, in the Frenzy

of everyday, get dispersed?

Or are you here to remind me

of what I mustn’t lose?

*

That in truth

there is nothing more to Fear

*

bleachers-016-big -mystery Version lighter

 

A T O M S

kikirosner

*

Particles, Infinitesimally Small

Bonding Repelling

Repeatedly

Creating Matter

As we know it

Us, as we Are

Matching Composition

Of Stars and all Manner of Life

Reproducing Endlessly, Dying

Disintegrating,

something else takes our place

Life Rolling Into Itself

Tirelessly

*

Can we stop a Moment

Take a look, Shudder

As we Marvel in the Redundancy

Of our Minds?

*

Why Are We Here?

*

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

Art Work by Yaron Rosner

The Gathering

kikirosner

Low enough to Gild the day’s light

and allow for the night to harden

our Sun has given the Signal;

for some it’s their first time

for others it is habit

Recommendations to the newcomers

reminders for the initiated

encouragement to the Seniors

everyone speaks at the same time

generating the clattering cacophony

of the Gathering

Such a sudden cloud you Rise together

settle on another wire continue your babble

Readying yourselves

for the oncoming journey South

until the Deep of the night Ices over

and only the Blue Jay call resounds,

you are Gone.

Photograph by Erwin Wybauw

Photograph by Erwin Wybauw

Relinquishing

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Something in the sound

like the Unraveling of a rope long gripped in panic

the release of a Breath exhaled at last

the Cooling brought on at dusk on a summer’s day

a flock of geese Honking as they push north

the peal of water

*  *  *

Relief at assessing with my heart

there is nothing more I can do

the ultimate Act of trust

an order to the chaos of my life

A message in the heat

meaning in the migrating geese

purpose in the sound of water

*  *  *

the unraveling Rope escapes my hand

precipitates the notion Nothing

was there to begin with

only my will

*  *  *

relinquishing or the Acceptance

that I am infinitesimally small

in an immeasurably large universe

governed by laws intuited

within instants, Fade

the moment they take Form.

*   *   *

Yaron Rosner Duplicata

Yaron Rosner
Duplicata