Reconstructed Newsreels

Your progression of thoughts,
like old movie reels played.
A shabby, cramped newsstand,
next to a hosting train station.
Newspapers delivering reports,
using wrecked grammar,
as quickly as flood waters rise.
Not dispatching
the past or the future,
but only what hums right now.

A collective desolation,
strange, yet familiar.
You know in your head
the sweet arms of happiness,
or the sparkling beauty
of dew encrusted grass,
as your fellow man intended.

Tragedies proclaimed,
about others who struggle
no less than you.

Hold your familiars close,
and grow them
in greater numbers,
and know
that you
can change
each day’s headlines
if you stand
side by side
with all the others
whose warm hearts
do not register controversy.

Linda Imbler has seven published poetry collections and one hybrid ebook of short fiction and poetry. Read other articles by Linda.