Gloaming Lilies

Ginger root lying on a brown paper sack
Can liberty and justice win our country back?
Praying for my life not to be
As useless as a plastic bag tangled a stream.
As a walk through the woods
Or as a ship on the sea
Visions fearful but beautiful
Speak comfort to me.
Grappling not to topple on a ship listing to starboard,
wondering if the storm will sink us where we’re harbored,
I see lightning rending the inky night in twain,
and there a vision flashes between the sheets of rain.
Bank of tiger lilies, orange fire in the gloaming.
Cease my wearied mind your roaming.
I see the beauty we must save, the love we must defend,
I see evil men will fall, their power at an end.
Rose petals drop from a fading bouquet
like harsh words dissolve at end of day.

Chani Zwibel is a graduate of Agnes Scott College, a poet, wife and dog-mom who was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but now dwells in Marietta, Georgia. She enjoys writing poetry after nature walks and daydreaming. Read other articles by Chani.