While She Was Dancing
© 2017 by Beate Sigriddaughter
While she was dancing tango one Sunday
night, cheek to cheek with friendly strangers,
shots rang out elsewhere. Fifty-nine futures
were stolen, many more wounded,
including her own, by an invisible rage
that declared thou shalt not dance or laugh
in paradise.
She learned their many names to chant them
down into the sands of time, while dreaming
still of a world of peace and dance for all.
While she was running by the ocean,
she felt the death of thousands of children
starved, diseased, unnamed, and unrecorded,
fading from lack of importance. She is starving
for a ray of sanity beneath a sun
that could so easily support them all.
Emily Celebrates Her Insignificance
© 2017 by Beate Sigriddaughter
Rocks, seals, or driftwood
down below. She cannot tell.
A garland of sleek cormorants
glides low above the water.
This is where life has spit her
with its froth of insignificance.
If she weren’t so insignificant,
she would have important duties
elsewhere, stand on a stage,
perhaps, or cater to a love.
Poppies and rattlesnakes, otters,
once even a fox. Life is.
Silver City Quarterly Review 