Friday, August 26, 2016

the same air

we must all feel
the tremors of bombs
tearing lives apart
still unlived

the man-made quaking
of earth
the smothering weight
of dust, stone
and history
not unlike the Richter-measured
magnitude of horror
upon the sleeping
the dreaming
of another ancient town

we must all feel
the walls around us crumbling
the floors beneath us
the ceiling above crashing
the air pushed from our lungs
the unyielding bed of rock
blood and dust

no one clamors to claim
credit for this tectonic terror
whose scientific explanation
lessens no pain
for this Act of God
(as if there could be one)

we must all gasp for
one more breath
on this fault line of

war and nature

to breathe in
the same choking air
of Aleppo and Amatrice

Barry DeCarli
August 26, 2016
On Hammond Pond
©Barry DeCarli

Sunday, August 14, 2016


parts of life
exist in the shadow
of truth
of openness
there in the fog of evening
a small secret lies
an undaring preclusion
concealed beneath the camouflage
of mist
the cloud of sorrow
the froth of promise

unrepeated stories
untold hopes and dreams
fleeing memory
lost in the reluctance
to ration more than a hint

parts of life dying off
each melancholic year
dreams unable to find a future
in the unspoken folly
and memories unable to lift themselves
out of the past

this untelling of past lives
suppresses the need to share
that lingers like sweat
cooling on the surface of silence

Barry DeCarli
August 11,12, & 14, 2016
On Hammond Pond
©Barry DeCarli