Sisters, 1906 inspired by the painting "Carousel", by Olexandr Murashko (Ukraine) 1906 the day before our trip to Odesa that day of endings and beginnings my sister and I went to the fair dressed in our best shawls long skirts flowing over backs of wooden steeds, the carousel would remain when we had left but we would leave no trace the day before we boarded the ship to bring us to the new land we visited the stalls selling food we were sure to miss borscht, holubtsi, varenyky even if beets, cabbage and potatoes were abundant there they would not taste the same the day before we left our home cradling pysanky—fragile mementos we spent one final day in traditional costume in the new land we would try to blend in, go unnoticed be accepted despite our difference take on new identities now it is the next day we have arrived at the docks passage booked, papers in hand will our daughters, and theirs thank us for taking the journey for becoming something other or will they cling to remnants of the lives they imagine for us? …never dreaming that many days hence in a new century, their cousins may face the same stark choice to leave their homes. Taking Dictation the decree came down today imposing new laws to govern thought, word, deed our behaviour constricted by populist tirade we must conform to an illogical ideology the threats against disobedience are real, life and death anyone could hang if the balance tips madness and hate hold too many minds weapons in the hands of the hateful, wield horrific power, support edicts imposed on the unwary by the unknowing must we take this dictation? we, worms of the earth can in our multitude turn against the traps tunnel in opposite directions march in harmony, consent to cooperate, pass judgment on domestic terrorists restore society to a norm that rules against assumed rank and deposes illegitimate tyrants Grand Cycle Propaganda enfolds us with words, calling itself news. Which lies to believe; what pictures trust; where find truth? Senses fuddled; thought rebels —we prefer silence. Hatred buries hope. Gap in understanding opens a chasm; entombs lost dreams. Well into the second half, outcome still uncertain, players shift positions. Onlookers scrutinize, criticize —who's keeping score? Mind numb with repetition, thoughts that dominate day and night —doors open; wheels turn; wars end— I still think of you. Appeared previously on http://www.poetsagainstthewar.org 2003, site now archived
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Adrienne Stevenson is a Canadian living in Ottawa, Ontario. A retired forensic scientist and Pushcart-nominated poet, when not writing, she tends a large garden. Her poetry has appeared in more than thirty print and online publications in Canada, the USA, the UK, and Australia, most recently in Poetry for Ukraine, Lifespan vol. 4 Work, Glebe Report, The BeZine, MacroMicroCosm. Twitter @ajs4t
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