My personal reflections, a poem

Perhaps my soul is stretched too thin
Or my heart tired of strife
That I sigh first at the mention of Christmas,
I want to run and hide
Yet voices in chorus cry “It is the time to feel joy”
I wonder why not
Every day month or week we shouldn’t speak
Of joy or looking around us more clearly,

I think of that road to Damascus
Littered with debris of war dating back centuries
Or of how the drones now threaten the manger
Or that billionaires bluster and hold the reigns
It feels as if the world is insane..

Yet in the dark, a small spark greater than all
Is the birth of hope and new life
Who would not celebrate the light
After years of the Roman dark?
The child born free and innocent
Is in us all and we must find
that road to Damascus in our minds.

Chris Papps
2024

an ode to sitting on both sides of the fence.

Jump, jump, jump
he cried as if he was in the crowd, as well as on the ledge
the edge of leaping, they keep asking
why, why, why? can I survive, I don’t think so, no no no

I am in pain, yes
heart racing, yes wildly
pulse runs wild (I was never mild)
can it be time to leap?
I dont think so, no no no

We don’t know what we know
until the table is set, the meal put out
only then will I know if it is time
to stay or to go

Jump, jump, jump
it is OK
people have all moved on, the news cycle is over
and I am still standing
on the ledge
the edge
undecided.

Chris P

after heat sweet relief

Wished for
prayed
for
hoped for
weather
map
tracking waiting
cursing
the heat
waiting for the breeze
to stir
curtains ready
to dance
sleep
possible perhaps now
we sigh
survive.

Chris P

A poem on leaving work

When asked I said “I think it is time to go”
all the signs were there
my physiology revolting against continuation
my anxiety demanded
and with trembling voice I said yes, it is time
not reason nor rhyme
on the platform refusing to board the express
taking time to bless
count my blessings, invoke my privilege
let others shoulder now
what I had carried for so very long before
they were even born,
Guilt or shame so often my closest friends
must respect the end
and banished be forever from my beginnings.

Chris P