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LIVING IN THIS WORLD TODAY first appeared on this blog March 5, 2021. I’ve reposted again as the horrid events in this country, and around the world, leave me in a bit of a bummer and stupor today.

living in this world today to wonder

about and pray of not dying

the living live in constant death

and of love and of fear intertwined

like a ball of yarn spun then dropped

in dismay.

living in this world today to ponder 

away the life given in love and lust

and sometimes in rage, doped up 

by the news bitten from hate.

living in this world today to squander

the love born yesterday to strangle 

the innocence of nuance and play.

living in this world today to blunder 

the blessing of angels and saints who

deliver from evil the human decay

‘a life worth living’  is what they say

however you cut it, don’t piss it away.   

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

it all became a thwart 
towards space
throttling, hurtling, scurrying
debris
a shock wave felt across the world

I cross my eyes to see 
the strange light
emanating from the clouds

and rearrange my thoughts to match
the pace of this new phenom 
entering from above

I shiver and recollect, the same
as the day you pummeled your fist
into my jaw—

and I lost all of my humanity
as it was forced into a hyper-reality

I live that moment, every moment 
on end, moment of that moment
on end, to that moment
on end—
to this day.

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

I have no collection of poems or tiny messages
wrapped in wax paper / delivered by little gnomes

I see no fortunes ahead / in miniature globes with snow
handed to little fingers with pointy wedged toes and

there are no fancy delights ringing in our dreams of 
sugar plum scenes / nonsense to lessen the pain of No!

I cannot deliver magic and abundance on twinkle twinkle 
little star without acknowledging the loss / the tragedy / the sorrow

that lands on our door / cleaving open the closed / bitten heart of denial 
reigning pain / on our cities and towns / onward they march as we cower / we clamor

we collide in the streets / the thrumming of the New Year threatens / assaults / our confidence
lost in the dreams / some believed / some not / some scurry in doubt / and some— some retreat. 

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by olia danilevich

Don’t beg me to enlighten and entertain that intellectual
old man who was your professor, or may well have been 
on his bike pedal/ peddling/ mingling on your stoop 

charming you to listen to his worldly
knowledge and the reading of his little book 
on astrology and moons.

He once gave you a reading 
typed on rice paper
cut, bound and glued,
a tiny thumb-book 

gifted— 
as clever as his bifocal laughter and 3 speed
peddler/ tooting his horn for your glamor
and youth. 

Who made him the boss of you?

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Brett Sayles

Blank documents/ in retrospect
alight the nascent day
sun cresting the horizon

meteor showers/ salted debris 
black canvas/ infinite twitches 
flicker against the night

the mind creates 
a fortress/ to ground the body 
to a meaning/ a purpose
to greet each day—

as the turning of lathe to leg 
on wooden post.

Would the Creator grumble if broken?
Of course you ask the obvious
not mistaken for frivolity—

you jester 
a crooked smile 
then proceed with caution. 

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash