Saintliness and Sin

   

Saintliness and Sin

 

Is it possible, within the city's

Bustle, to be quiet—

To walk or sit in peace amidst

The clamor of the riot?

 

I had often tried to do this, tried to

Slow from moving fast—

To pause and breathe and gather in—

Although this didn’t last.

 

And though one thing or other

Would come and prick my bubble,

If I’d ever stalled within this,

I could be in bigger trouble.

 

To disengage from madnesses

Of fear or scorn or rage

Invites, alas, no kindnesses

From those who still engage. 

  

Within a mass hysteria,

As in a mad stampede,

Whoever tries to slow or stop

Is trampled well indeed!

  

******

 

There’s the yin within the yang and there's

The yang within the yin.

So day and night can alternate

And saintliness and sin.

 

And so I laugh when fit to cry

And weep as I am smiling.

I venture out in stormy rain

And run in when it’s shining.

 

I listen to our “enemies”,

I question all our wars

And hum my verse to Venus when

The others sing to Mars.

 

I see the sides to everything

As often as I can.

I see the Muslim in the Jew,

The woman in the man.

 

But still I cannot slow enough,

Within the rush we’re in,

To be at peace as wars abound—

Be clear amidst the sin.

 

2025 Nov. 13, Thu.

(4th, 5th, & last 2 quatrains, Nov. 19)

Berkeley, California

 

The World Wide Web-2025-10-20-22

  
The World Wide Web
 
We’re now acquainted with the “World Wide Web”,
But keep forgetting there’s another one
That spreads its filaments across the globe
And snares us insects for the spiders’ meals.
 
As long as we are trapped within the webs
Of Mammon's spiders, spun with wage and tax,
With real estate, insurance, lease and rent,
And shares and interest, we will all remain,
 
Except for some who’re fortunate or “smart”,
The captive slaves of those who spin the webs
That all together serve to trap the rest,
However much they struggle, each in place.
 
******
  
But how to extricate ourselves, I ask,
From lifelong bondage? Each of us are part
Of this, the system, which, in peace and war,
Exploits the workers, trapped by how they earn
 
Their sustenance. We’re subject still to whims
Of bosses, markets—just as serfs had been
To all the “lords” who rode upon their backs
And fed on all the endless work they did. 
 
I do not know, for others tried and failed
Whose strength and knowledge far exceeded mine.
I only know the path we’re on is that
Of needless bondage and of endless pain. 
 
******
  
Let’s wake and rise and educate ourselves
On all the struggles past. They were not in vain:
So much of courage, labor, sacrifice—
So many lessons, which we need to learn.
 
The wizards weave their spells and lo, we see
The miracles the sciences and crafts have wrought.
And yet, for bare essentials, we depend
On systems dark, as all is sold and bought,
 
Including those elected, not to serve
The voters but their funders. Let us strive
For truth and justice, work to disregard
The cynics and refute the endless lies.
 
2025 October 20, Mon.
(last three strophes added  Oct. 22)
Berkeley, California
 

Resolve

  
Resolve
 
How hard it is to leave our comfort zones
To face the full and harsh realities. 
It's so for each of us, within our lives,
And so for groups that shy from verities.
 
And yet, for each of us, there's no escape.
And so it is for groups and nations too.
It's better to resolve to face the truth—
For each collective, as for me and you.
 
How often can one see, in retrospect,
How daft, misguided, one had been.
So also, groups and nations lose their sense
And stoop to actions lethal and obscene.
 
******
 
The angels and the devils live within
Our “foes”, our “friends”, and also you and me.
The monster and the saint are both in us—
And this is what we often fail to see.
 
We cherish those we love—and that is good,
But often draw a circle that excludes
The others, whom we tend to then perceive
As aliens—or even demon-broods.
 
And so, deluded, dulled by myths we’re taught,
We’re snared and fashioned by the liar’s art.
Accepting then the endless lies we’re fed,
We lapse in sense in both the mind and heart.
  
****** 
  
The “races”, tongues, and cultures mix and so
They make the mixtures that we humans are.
And yet we puff with pride and hiss with hate
Against our fellows—while we wage our wars.
 
The soldiers, who are led to kill, be killed—
They follow orders as they’re trained to do,
But if by chance they met the other side
In peacetime, each might share a meal or two.
  
So much of caring humans give—and take,
And yet they’re led, by blinded fealty,
To senseless mayhem. Fathers, brothers rage,
As mothers, sisters cheer their cruelty.
  
****** 
  
Let’s wake, oh humans, turn from bondage, so
We open up our hearts and minds and eyes.
Let’s seek the truth, however hard that be;
Forsake our comforts, false, in easy lies.
  
So many lies, repeated endlessly,
By those who’re shameless, freed of ethics, laws,
Inclined to evil, ruthless, sparing none,
They feed the children, too, to Mammon’s maws!
  
Discern these monsters, understand their ways—
Relearn the history that’s been buried deep.
Resolve to work to bring some light again
To darkness, smiles to those who wail and weep. 
  
****** 
  
The angels and the devils live within
Our “foes”, our “friends”, and also you and me.
The monster and the saint are both in us
And this is what we often fail to see.
  
How hard it is to leave our comfort zones
To face the full and harsh realities. 
It's so for each of us, within our lives,
And so for groups that shy from verities.
  
And yet, for each of us, there's no escape.
And so it is for groups and nations too.
It's better to resolve to face the truth—
For each collective, as for me and you.
   
2025 October 18, Sat.
Berkeley, California
  

Blessing

 
Blessing

 
How blind we are to pain and misery—
Except when it affects us or our own!
How many smiling faces turned to grief,
How many vanished, never to return!

 
They still exist, within our inner realms.
We hear their laughter, see them smile and weep.
Their voices echo deep within us still—
And so they stay with us, until we leave.
 
 ****** 

 
How many images of scattered gore
And spattered blood—so red, that then congeals!
How much of terror and of horror, yet
They each are gifts that we can cherish still—

 
The images we saw, upon the screen,
Of men and women searching for their kin
And never finding them, because they’d been
Entombed below—or burned and blown to bits.

 
****** 

When death releases us from torture, pain,
Then death becomes a blessing and release.
And though we watched from very far away,
We learned the lessons, while the victims paid.

Some say their cause was hopeless, that they should
Accept their fate and bow and fade away.
We saw the children play, so full of life.
We saw them die. And yet they gave us life—

******  

For we were blind and now our eyes can see.
And we were deaf and now we hear again.
Our hearts and minds were opened and were blessed.
We bear their witness, with their joy and pain.

Can lives be lost to madness and regained?
Can laughter light those faces once again?
Alas! No miracles can bring them back to life.
And yet they live within us—gifting strength.

2025 October 12, Sun.
Berkeley, California

Treachery and Terror

  
Treachery and Terror
 
What use are treaties if they are
Ignored and violated—
Not once or twice—repeatedly,
With greed and lust unsated?
 
When leaders lead in treachery
And the rest of us are blind,
Then those who deal in lechery
Leave all the rest behind. 
 
So public crimes and private ones
Compete in cruel sin,
And horrors terrorize the world—
The one we all are in.
 
****** 
  
If one has more of weaponry
And even more of lies,
And allies who support one’s acts,
Then all resistance dies—
 
Or so one might believe, until
It rises yet again
In phoenix-form, from fire and ash, 
To strike back yet again.
 
But this is not acceptable.
It can’t be tolerated.
This challenges one's dominance—
So genocides are slated.
 
2025 September 30, Tue.
Berkeley, California
 

Sense—and Sense

  
Sense—and Sense
 
The thoughts that clamor in our heads can drown
The softer senses that are needed still.
So also, surges of emotions blind
Our inner eyes to things that each should see.
 
And so we’re snared in tangles, or replace
The fuller views, with all their hues and shades,
Their whole perspectives, and their small details,
With caricature-sketches—mere cartoons.
 
These simplify our views but may obscure
The wider, deeper, sharper sight we need 
To judge and act with fuller knowledge—skew 
The balanced wisdom that we truly need.
 
They prejudice and blind us so we lose
Our empathy and sense of justice—guides
That steer our thoughts and words and deeds.
 
And so we’re blinded, shorn of sense and heart,
Let go of ethics, joy in cruelties…
 
****** 
 
We each are mortal and are limited
But can, by seeing, listening, absorb
The views of others—part of what they’ve seen—
And so expand and deepen how we see
The world we share—the world we all are in.
 
A while ago, we humans learned to write
And read—and this can surely serve us still.
So books can speak across the centuries, 
As letters bring us words from distant zones. 
 
And yet, increasingly, both diligence
And length are spurned. Impatience rules our lives,
And this again can lead to negligence.
 
The broader strokes can often brush away
The filigree that’s there in everything.
 
****** 
 
Even in one’s self, those voices stir
That often can’t be heard above the din.
So new distractions, loud, insistent, drown,
With noise, the softs that rise and die within.
 
And rage and fear arrive, like tides or storms,
To sweep away all else. We speak and act,
Too often rashly, causing hurt, regret, 
Or else retreat. We’re shorn of sense—and sense.
 
******
 
The first? Sensation, which is followed by
Perception and what follows after it—
The wisdom, balanced, based on sanity—
That speaks to us when souls are calm within.
 
This makes us pause to try to understand
And then to speak or act with sense, and not
The haste that comes with unconsidered heat.
 
And that’s the second “sense” we also need
To use the welter of our senses’ feeds
And all the thoughts and feelings that compete,
In ways not ruled by either fear or rage
Or mere disgust or jaded apathy.
 
We need the care and courage, born of sight,
That sees confusion, mixed with clarity, 
And quietly seeks to sift then each from each.
 
****** 
 
Within this world of pleasure twinned with pain,
With joy and sorrow mixed in turbulence,
So many labor long and wearily,
As others wreak their endless ravages.
 
We wend our ways through this—and hopefully,
We dwell at times in quiet sanity 
That gives us strength—and serves as sustenance.
 
Our mornings and our evenings come and go.
Our days and nights and seasons cycle through.
And some of us, at times, are blessed with peace—
The grace that comes to us with quietude. 
  
2025 Sep 20 Sat
Berkeley, California
  

Being

  
Being
 
Within the madness of the world we’re in,
The smiles and silences remain serene,
Reminding us of petals and of peace.
 
Amidst the clamor of the marketplace,
And all the thunder of the zones of war,
Are sounds as soft as in a lover’s sigh.
 
********** 
 
To doubt is human, given loss of sight. 
And even hope, like all of life, can die. 
How hard, the truth! How easy still the lie!
 
In all our aspects, there is kind-and-harsh.
So good and evil always coexist
In every being and throughout the world. 

*********
 
As cruelty and cowardice compete,
There still is courage and the caring heart. 
The stench of greed, the scent of sacrifice—
 
They both exist and do so side by side.
Amidst despair and darkness, there is light. 
We cherish it, as thousands lose their lives.
 
********** 
 
How slick the evil are with practiced lies!
They do the devils’ work but speak of gods.
They spin, as comforts, dank and dark cocoons.

********** 

 
How much of torture and of pain and grief?
How much of blindness that is past belief?
These all exist—as does the quiet faith 
That turns from malice, answers hate with love. 

 

**********

  
We'll never change the ones who will not see.
In dying, as in life, we still can be
In touch with silence, being touched by grace, 
With every torture still as ours to face 
In deepest stillness, with the firmest faith.
  
********** 
 
Within the madness of the world we’re in,
The smiles and silences remain serene,
Reminding us of petals and of peace.
 
Amidst the clamor of the marketplace
And all the thunder of the zones of war
Are sounds as soft as in a lover’s sigh.
 
2025 September 15, Monday
Berkeley, California 
 

The Appetites of Sin

 
The Appetites of Sin 

 
Beware of those who need unending praise
And those who seek to measure worth in wealth
Or else in power—lethal twins conjoined
That still, as ever, lay the world to waste.

 
Along with thirsting ego, marches greed—
And these together drive that raging lust
That seeks dominion over one and all
And drives in turn the wars and other deeds 

 
Of vile deception and of cruelty
That wreak destruction, sowing misery
And all the mayhem that is sickening
But serves to feed the appetites of sin. 

****** 

Avoid the boastful and the devious—
And those who seek to label and despoil,
For just as those who’re humble seek to heal,
These others get their joys in evil deeds.

 
The path of healing and of peace exists
But needs from each of us the pause and turn
That starts to see and moves away from all
That blinds the sense and hardens so the heart. 

Be not misled by those who draw a line

Between the “self” and “other”, celebrate 

The “primes” and spurn and demonize the rest.

Resist deception. Move away from hate.

2025 September 8, Monday
Berkeley, California

Paradise

 
Paradise
 
How precious are the tranquil times that come
And bring relief from all the stress and rush.
How rare these have become, for most of us,
As lethal madnesses pervade our worlds.
 
But still, outsides the war-zones, there's the dawn
With softest light, the morning bold and bright,
And then the noon and afternoon, and dusk
That calls to rest—and brings the stars to night.
 
For some at least, there still are meets at times
With friends and kin that bring back memories,
For others, only what remains in mind,
Reminding them of hell and paradise.
 
I still retain my faith that’s shorn of creeds—
The faith primeval in the truth and right—
That hears, amidst the cruelties, the voice
That calls to those who heal and those who fight.
 
2025 August 31, Sun.
Berkeley, California
 

Prescription / Come sit with me / But still be gentle on yourself

.
Prescription / Come Sit with Me / But still be gentle on yourself
.
You say that you are troubled, weary—worn 
By all that you have borne and others bear.
You seek advice—and yet I fumble, since
I too am often lost in grief and fear.
.
But come and sit beside me. I am old
And yet no wiser now than in my youth.
So what can I prescribe that would suffice
To cure your ailments in a world in which
So much is broken and has gone amiss?
.
******
.
Impatience is a marker of our times,
Yet patience is what's often needed most.
Attention that is deep and is sustained
Can see beneath the surface and divine
The truths that words alone cannot express—
And so can serve to heal our sundry plagues.
.
Beware of lords and kings and autocrats
And those who always need to puff themselves.
Embrace the truly humble. Seek them out.
Appoint such men and women to the roles
Most critical, including in the home,
If possible, or else where needed most.
.
******
.
The self impedes, where duty beckons most.
So try to leave the self and all its weight 
Behind. Attend to work at hand. Rejoice
When you have found a chance to be of use.
.
But still be gentle on yourself. You are
As much in need of love and caring now
As when you were an infant. So it is
With all of us, however tough we seem.
.
So leave a little time for care for self,
So you can care for others with a will.
.
******
.
Value virtues old and tested, true—
Like patience, kindness, tact, and diligence.
The human world is built on care and love.
No infant would survive, no child would learn
Without at least a being who had cared.
.
Beware of “high and low”. Eschew the pomp
That so pollutes the public offices.
.
Along with virtues, vices still abound.
So greeds and lusts compound our negligence,
As apathy and hatred vie with these
To quell the conscience, breeding cruelties.
.
******
.
Be clear of sight—and sound of head and heart.
Amid the clamor, labor quietly.
Remember, work delivers its reward
In satisfaction, not in praise or cash.
.
Be grateful for the things that you receive,
However small, and count each blessing twice.
Forgive the ones who’ve hurt you. Mind them not,
For they distract you from the kinder acts
Of others. Try to pay your daily dues,
And sleep contented. Be at peace within.
.
What more is there to say? I trust you know,
Within yourself, what’s true and what is false.
Be open-hearted, minded. Listen, see.
Be undeterred by human frailties,
Remain at peace and persevere.
May all the buddhas guide you through your days.
.
******
. 
I’m done. So come, let’s walk a little while
And even here, amidst the rubble, smile,
As does that orphan, there, who limps and plays,
With memories of those who’ve left—and grief,
And hope remaining still, for brighter days
That may not ever come, except in dreams,
In which he still can hear his siblings’ screams.
.
2025 August 29, Fri.
Berkeley, California
.

Haters

Haters

The bigot on the side of A reflects 
The bigot on the side of B. Indeed,
They are in essence truly just the same.
Today, they seek to vilify each other.
Tomorrow, other targets will be found.

So also, powers rise and rule the world
That seem to need a steady stream of "foes",
In whose destruction they get purpose, joy.

When every "foe" is utterly destroyed,
One wonders how the haters will survive,
Except by turning then upon their "own",
As needed so that hatred doesn't die.

2025 July 6th, Sun.
Berkeley, California

Darkness—and Light

 
Darkness—and Light

We need to see and so to understand

How pettiness and peeve can overwhelm
Our better instincts, blur and blind our sight,
And bend our reason towards disastrous ends.
So conscience dies and truth is buried deep,
As endless lies and endless wars extend
Disaster zones in which the children wail
As parents weep or turn to remnant faith.

The gods and goddesses of ancient yore
Took part, we’re told, in all our grievous sins
Of lying, cheating, loot and murder—yes,
And even now we bow to Mammon’s will
And execute his lethal schemes and  worse—
As both the godless and the theists claim
Their rights to slaughters that will never end.

In all this darkness, growing deeper, might
There still be light that waits for more at dawn?
There surely is, as mind and heart can see
If only turned and opened towards this light—
That strives at every time and every place
To heal, console, and give us more of strength
That still sustains the soul in all that lives.

Behold the darkness, viewing it in full.
Observe the remnant light and cherish it.
The cynics and the ones defeated spurn
The hope that’s offered and the needed fight,
And in so doing aid the dark’s advance.
So recognize this trait, within yourself
As well as others. Understand the plight

Of those who’re wounded, yet sustain the light.

2025 July 5th, Sat. 
Berkeley, California

Basics

Basics

 
Give me a man of a simple sort,
With an open heart and mind,
Who is free of schemes and of meaner thoughts,
With a soul that is pure and kind—

 
For he’ll gladden my heart and cleanse my soul

And turn me away from sin.
And this is true for a woman too 
In every land that I’m in.

 
We live in a world that is full of woes
That are born out of greed and hate,
So we need such men and such women too,
Before it is far too late.

******

 
Where caring and courage both are alive—
There, I will send my heart.
Where one or both have disappeared,
From there, we should all depart.

 

****** 

But if we are stuck in a land we loved
That is blighted by hate and fear,
We should think of the men and women—those 
Who had made it so special and dear.

 
I bow to the man of a simple sort
And a woman, too, of the kind—
For they are the salt of the earth—the best
That I ever could hope to find.

I will not ask of their tongue or faith

Or the land in which they were born,

Except to bond and to hear and talk

With a heart that is free of scorn.

 

2025, April 20th, Sun.
Berkeley, California 
 

Release

Release

We try to judge the act and not the person,

And this can serve us well through all our years,

But often we may struggle all alone,

And then perhaps could shed our bitter tears,

Had we not seen how others suffered more 

And so had gained perspective—being blessed

By traces left of humor that could see

The comedy of this, the “tragic self”—

And so could pause from misery to smile

And even laugh out loud at such a plight—

And so, amidst what seemed as darkness, find

The fortitude to still perceive the light.

****** 

We carry burdens, dense, of varied  weight, 

Of all the wrongs we’ve borne. And every grudge

Can add to these, until we let them fall

And so are freed to let the heavens judge

Our acts and those of others, breathing free

To hark to conscience, heed to duties left—

To breathe in peace and even take delight

In pleasures small and what we still have left.

This needs some practice, letting grasping go

Of fears, desires, attachments, rages—all

The things that snare us, all the chains we’ve wrought—

To find release from years in captive thrall.

2025, April 15th, Tue

Berkeley, California 

Rounds

 

Rounds

The skies of sunlit days have blues and whites

That give us cause to simply breathe and be.

The skies of moonless nights are dark, with lights

As distant as unaided eyes can see.

*******

There comes the dawn—that rising sun again—

And then the morning, noon, and afternoon,

And then the dusk—and then that night again,

Until the time that often comes too soon—

Or just in time for some, for others late,

When silently we’re told it’s time to end

The rounds that mark our lives and yield to fate—

To start the sleep that then will never end.

We know what waits us, yet we live as though

The day that is a life will be as bright,

As life proceeds, as in its fullest glow—

Until we see its evening turn to night.

******

******

How many rounds before, how many after

The current round of hours, of seasons, years?

How many smiles, how much of merry laughter?

How much of pain, how many more of tears?

****** 

Our lives are threaded through with darkness, light—

With joy and sorrow, pleasure braiding pain.

And so we weep and so we know delight—

As hunger makes us savor food again.

A life to live—and then to leave—ah yes—

With eyes that saw the sun and moon and stars,

With rounds enlivened by the human mess

But blighted sore by lies and endless wars!

So just as night and day are needed, both,

So also might be all our joy and grief—

Like sleep and waking, diligence and sloth,

Like thirst and quenching, reason and belief.

2025, April 11th, Fri.

Berkeley, California 

Magic

 
Magic

We humans have abilities that awe
That when unhemmed by ethics and by law
Can lead to great calamities indeed. 
No magic can suffice, when few will heed

The voice of conscience and the pull of heart
As ears are deafened and we're pulled apart
By hatreds born of ignorance, instilled.
And so are prophesies, of hate, fulfilled.

****** 

So you and I and others have conversed
On how to end the wars with which we're cursed,
As more and more of science, art, and craft
Are used to wage what reason sees as daft—

What every heart and wakened conscience feels
Descends on people, trapped, and blindly steals 
From these, its victims, all, including life,
And so maintains the never-ending strife

That heaps, on generations, more of woe,
With senseless hatred turning friend to foe
As every act unjust and every blow
Begets its offspring, violent even more.  

******

So each of us has asked, in silence and
In speech, if anyone can understand
The sense behind this senselessness and show
A way by which to stop—or even slow—

The rush to our destruction: sober those
Whose hubris causes hearts and minds to close,
As blissful, willful ignorance parades
As truth—and blatant lies inform charades

Performed by rogues, as legislators cheer
The murderers of children, feel no fear
Of judgment, further seal their hearts
And practice, daily, more deceiving arts.

*********

If I could wave a "magic wand", I would—
And make those evils disappear, that should.
So bombs would all reverse, and bullets too—
And then we might be smiling, me and you—

As every missile sent and every shell
Would turn—and so return! It would be hell
For every bully, armed with war machines,
As "magic" gave the rest of us vaccines

Against their bribes, their threats, and all the fear
And horror. So these wars would disappear—
Of mass destruction, misery, and death—
Replaced perhaps by even worse! Regret

Could then descend on well-intentioned me
As all my "magic" turned out, not to be
The thing I'd hoped for. Squeezing evil, I,
Would see its means to lengthen and defy

My efforts to contain it. So elastic
This scourge of ours could be, that only drastic
Measures might suffice to bring to end
This evil that afflicts us all, my friend!

*********

And what could truly be more drastic than
To end our species, twinned as woman-man?

It might perhaps be time for diving deep
Within the wilds of psyche, through the sleep

In which we often spend our waking days,
With steps, as usual, on accustomed ways
Of habit born of training, so we see

What seers saw, informing you and me,

In wordless ways that cannot be expressed 
In verse or prose, of That which so impressed
The ones who saw that they awoke from sleep,
Enlightened—and connected with the Deep.

******

It’s only this, it seems, that could provide
The insight and connection that abide
And so inform the heart and mind to steer
Away from that which then is seen as clear. 

Is it “good and evil”? Simply, “right and wrong”?
Or was and is this cleavage, all along,
Misguided—clouded by a lack of sight
Of those connections needing pause—for light?

Our feelings, thoughts, and words and deeds, we see, 
Are ripples on the surface of a sea
That can be whipped by winds to stormy waves.
And yet, beneath, there’s peace—a strength that knaves

Cannot perturb. And some may call this “faith”
And others, “insight” or “connection”. Fate
Can put us each in peril and in stress, 
But only grace can change a “no” to “yes”,

Delivered from the heart—and not by force. 
So endless lies and wars may take their course
With cities laid to waste and no one spared.
The spirit lives—in those who saw—and cared. 

And this, dear friend, is all I have to say
To end the many words I’ve said today.
There is indeed a magic: it’s within;
It gives us strength to see—and not to sin.

2025 March 7, Fri.
Berkeley, California 

To See Ourselves in Others

 
To See Ourselves in Others
 
We humans have abilities, remarkable indeed,
And some are quite admirable—of thinking, word, and deed—
And others, though amajing, may leave us quite perplexed
And even, when encountered first, so maddeningly vexed
That only introspection might, in course of time, allow
An insight into origins—including why and how
Behaviors, strange, and attitudes emerged and then prevailed
That still persist, in most of us, that might appear derailed—
Divorced from justice, empathy—and even reason, sense—
Controlling much of how we feel and think and act. The whence 
And wherefore of this human world cannot, indeed, be known
Until we see and understand the things that we disown
In selves and those we see as ours, ascribing these to others
We see as simply alien, although they’re born of mothers
And like us, have emotions, thoughts, experience pain and pleasure,
And yet are seen as different, by every human measure.
 
To see ourselves in others, and others in ourselves
Is often sadly lacking, amidst our clans of elves
With all our seeming magic and all our scheming ways, 
And all our sights and blindnesses that guide us through our days.
 
2025 February 27, Thu.
Berkeley, California 
 

Faith

Faith

When bribes and threats combine with endless lies,

And death and dread destroy our bodies, minds, 

What then sustains the life, the will to fight,

The strength to bear the blows—and all the pain?

What could it be, except conviction, faith—

The love that still sustains and still reminds

Our wretched souls that there can still be light

And all our endless work was not in vain?

******

So even if we do not live to see

The darkness yield as dawn ascends the east,

We still can strive so that that hour can be

That lights the eyes of those considered least.

So some deride the faith that gives us strength,

And others say it hardly will suffice

Against the foe of overwhelming might. 

And yet we turn to virtue, turn from vice.

****** 

So faith informs our hearts and minds and deeds.

Despite our errors, frailties, and needs,

We turn from hatred, turn from hardened hearts—

To practice courage—and the caring arts.

The outcome often can’t be known—and yet 

Our faith sustains us. Though we can’t forget

The pain inflicted by the heartless foe,

Our faith does not allow the hate to grow.

2025, February 21st, Fri.

Berkeley, California 

Orphan-2025-02-18

Orphan
 
I heard a distant wailing,
A moaning from afar.
I found an orphan crying,
Abandoned, in a war.

I found an orphan crying—
A little child, alone.
The sound was of a sobbing—
And then, at times, a moan.

I had heard a distant wailing,
A moaning from afar.
I had found an orphan crying, 
In the carnage of a war.

******

I went up to the orphan.
She looked at me in fright.
I bent to lift the orphan
As the daylight ebbed to night.

I lifted up that orphan.
I held her to my chest.
I saw her tears were shining
As the sunset lit the West.

I had found a little orphan
In the wreckage of a war.
I had found an orphan crying
In the madness of a war.

******

I looked for parents, siblings.
I found them, one by one.
A grandma lay there, dying.
Said, “Save the little one.”

I told her I would do that,
But did she understand?
She breathed her last and left us,
As I held her feeble hand.

******

How many little orphans?
How many children slain?
How many burned and crippled?
How many wracked with pain?

Whence—this cruel madness?
And why—these blinded hearts?
Go ask this, then, of “humans”,
As the light of life departs.

She once had loving parents—
But now was all alone.
Go ask them for the reason—
The ones whose hearts are stone.

******

I held that little orphan.
I held her to my chest.
I heard her growing quiet
As I walked towards the West.

I had found that little orphan,
Abandoned, in a war.
I saw a light was shining—
The brightening evening star.

I looked towards that planet
As it rose and shone above
The bodies, lying scattered,
That each was born of love.

2025 February 18, Tue.
Berkeley, California

Ki ko'ra jae-কি করা যায়?

কি করা যায়?

এমন যুগ কি কখনো ছিলো—

আছে কি কোনো দেশ—

যখন, যেখানে শান্তির সাথে 

সুবাদ ছিলো, বেশ? 

তা জানি না, তা জানি না—

হয়তো কামনা—তবে 

এটুকু জানি, মানবজাতির 

এ পথে অপায় হবে। 

এখনো আকাশে সূর্য-তারা, 

এখনো নদীতে ঢেউ—

বাহিরে-অন্তরে জোয়ার-ভাটা। 

রেখেছে মনে কি কেউ?

****** 

গরিব হলে, এসে যায় না 

ধর্ম তোমার কি।

জুতো লাথি খেতে হবে, 

শুনতে হবে ‘ছিঃ!’ 

প্রতি যুগে একই দশা, 

প্রতি দেশেও তাই। 

মানুষ জাতির এই প্রণালী 

সর্বগত, ভাই। 

মানুষের যা গুণ বা ত্রুটি—

যেমন তোমার, আমার—

নেই কো যুগের, দলের শুধু। 

রয়েছে, সদা, সবার।

****** 

‘উঁচু’, ‘নিচু’, ‘আমার’, ‘তোমার’—

চলছে চারিদিকে। 

তাই সেদিনের লাল পতাকার 

রং হয়েছে ফিকে। 

কি করা যায়, এমন হালে, 

মাথা চুলকিয়ে ভাবি। 

এই কারাগার থেকে খালাস

 চেয়েও পাই না চাবি। 

বাকি সবাই যাই বা করুক, 

ফুটপাতে বা রথে, 

চলবো ধীরে, বিবেক মেনে, 

শান্ত আপন পথে।

****** 

নিজের কাজে, কথায়, লেখায় 

করবো, যত পারি। 

বন্ধু-স্বজন মানবে না, তাও 

করবো না গো আড়ি। 

বলবো খুলে বুকে যেটা 

আসে, যদিও জানি 

পাত্তা দেওয়ার লোকের অভাব।

বাস্তবতা মানি। 

সবাই জেগে উঠবে কবে, 

যোগ দেবে মূল কাজে—

তা জানি না। বাজাই বাঁশি, 

সুর যদিও বাজে।

******

স্থানের সাথে সুর মেলেনা, 

যুগের সাথে ছন্দ। 

কি করা যায়, তা জানি না। 

জেলের দুয়ার বন্ধ। 

সবাই মিলে গাইবে কবে 

নদীর, ক্ষেতের গান? 

আসবে ফিরে কখন দেহে 

জোয়ার-ভাটার টান? 

তা জানি না, তা জানি না। 

গাইছি নিজের সুরে। 

গাইবো জোরে, গাইবো মৃদু,

গানেই যাবো উড়ে।

মঙ্গলবার, ১৪ জানুয়ারি, ২০২৫ 

বার্ক্লি, কালিফোর্নিয়া 

A~dhar-alo-আঁধার-আলো

 

আঁধার-আলো

কত কঠোর, নিষ্ঠুর, হিংস্র, হায়— 

এই মানব জাতি, 

যার কীর্তি দেখে কান্না আসে, 

বুক ভরে যায় ব্যথায়, 

মুখের বাণী বেরোয় না গো, 

দিন হয়ে যায় কালো!

তাও যে দয়া-মায়া, সাহস। 

খাটছে একই জাতি, 

করছে আদর, করছে পালন, 

দিচ্ছে জীবন, সেবায়। 

দুঃখ, পীড়ার মাঝেও আশা, 

ঘোর আঁধারেও আলো।

শুক্রবার, ৩ জানুয়ারি, ২০২৫ খ্রি.

বার্ক্লি, কালিফর্নিয়া 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Darkness and Light

How harsh, cruel, violent, alas— 

This human species, 

Whose deeds bring tears to the eyes!

The heart is filled with pain;

The words do not come out of the mouth;

The day becomes black.

And yet, what kindness, love, courage!

The same species is laboring, 

Cherishing, nurturing, 

Giving lives in service. 

Hope in the midst of sorrow and pain;

Light in the deepest darkness.

2025 Jan 3, Fri.

Berkeley, California

English version via Google Translate,

(very lightly edited for punctuation, etc.)