The sun rises with
Foreboding crow caws,
While the day brings
Sirens of uncertainty.
Allergies persist.
Well, for the lilac pansies,
The snapdragons,
And the daffodils…
Oh, and the tulips in all colors,
Beautiful and bold.
We see the sun
From behind the glass.
We hear the rain.
Upstairs, there is music.
He’s singing—
Playing guitar.
Below we talk like survivors
Of dystopian madness
Taking shelter in a cave.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yes.”
The days are longer.
Open windows let in the breeze.
Outside, the trees are tall and proud.
With all their flowers,
Cherries,
And leaves.
Yet we—
We are powerless,
Our illusion of safety
Violated once more.
Oh, but the birds chirp in a frenzy!
Come play.
The earth is alive!
We need to laugh and
To cry.
Everything is tragic
And beautiful.
But some have no one to talk to,
Little, if anything, to eat,
No way to get well,
And nowhere to hide.
Others rise to an occasion
They never could have fathomed,
Working toward their lifelong dream
With infinite empathy.
Does it wreak desolation?
We don’t even know the extent
Of how harsh life can be.
People die for greed.
Dreaded knock on the door now.
No one should come here—
Maybe not for a while.
Uneasy eyes
Behind masked faces.
Down the stairwells then,
One flight at a time,
I go beyond the door,
Where the world is.
Experience it once more,
For a short time.
The sun is bright
Across a vivid blue sky.
There’s the scent of fresh-cut grass
And the sweet caress of the wind.
It’s like a summer day
With pillowy clouds
And butterflies.
The world’s magnificent beauty.
Then it’s back to the safe place.
Do you have one of those?
A safe place to be?
I hope you do.
Because the stars are still there at night,
Like the glorious moon.
I watch them as I hope
Things get better.
Like they always did before,
At least, for a little while.
“How Are You Feeling These Days” poem by Kyrian Lyndon
The sun rises with Foreboding crow caws, While the day brings Sirens of uncertainty. Allergies persist. Well, for the lilac pansies, The snapdragons, And the daffodils… Oh, and the tulips in all colors, Beautiful and bold.
We see the sun From behind the glass. We hear the rain. Upstairs, there is music. He’s singing— Playing guitar. Below we talk like survivors Of dystopian madness Taking shelter in a cave. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. Are you?” “Yes.”
The days are longer. Open windows let in the breeze. Outside, the trees are tall and proud. With all their flowers, Cherries, And leaves. Yet we— We are powerless, Our illusion of safety Violated once more. Oh, but the birds chirp in a frenzy! Come play. The earth is alive! We need to laugh and To cry. Everything is tragic And beautiful.
But some have no one to talk to, Little, if anything, to eat, No way to get well, And nowhere to hide. Others rise to an occasion They never could have fathomed, Working toward their lifelong dream With infinite empathy. Does it wreak desolation? We don’t even know the extent Of how harsh life can be. People die for greed. Dreaded knock on the door now. No one should come here— Maybe not for a while. Uneasy eyes Behind masked faces. Down the stairwells then, One flight at a time, I go beyond the door, Where the world is. Experience it once more, For a short time. The sun is bright Across a vivid blue sky. There’s the scent of fresh-cut grass And the sweet caress of the wind. It’s like a summer day With pillowy clouds And butterflies. The world’s magnificent beauty.
Then it’s back to the safe place. Do you have one of those? A safe place to be? I hope you do. Because the stars are still there at night, Like the glorious moon. I watch them as I hope Things get better. Like they always did before, At least, for a little while.
