Two Poems — Washington DC

Sometimes it just happens — two so very different poems about — in several ways — the same thing  arrive at the same time. I wrote the next poem after preaching in Bethesda, Maryland. Pastor Dee Ledger … well, you can read the story. And then an “anonymous preacher friend” was inspired by a Johnny Cash dreamscape.

April 15, 2018

I go to Washington to see cherry blossoms.
taking the metro from the job
I have this weekend in Maryland
and arriving for almost the last day
of the blooming
of these trees of friendship.
It is raining and chilly
and blossoms are shedding
drifts of beauty around the Tidal Basin.

It has been a long time
since I’ve come to the capital
and it has not been a demonstration,
against one of many failures
in justice and peace —
the monstrous unwelcoming of refugees,
the national idolatry
of the semi-automatic golden calf,
the destruction of public lands.

But this is also Washington
where people live and work,
where I met my husband years ago
on a sidewalk outside a theatre,
where children go to school,
artists paint, poets write,
and some honor those who elected them
by working for humanity’s good.

Today I see Washington, pink,
under a long grey shadow.

A band plays under a tent,
shielding their guitars from rain.
My friend and I walk,
sharing a plate of funnel cake, a country.

“Sometimes, Johnny Cash comes to me in a dream:”
by “anonymous preacher friend”

D.C. Nightmare

I hear that train a-comin’,
it’s rollin’ round the bend,
and we ain’t seen no sunshine
since I don’t know when.

We’re in a D.C. nightmare;
something we have to fix,
so that train it keeps a-rollin’
until November 6.

When I was just a baby,
my mamma told me, “Son,
be careful who you vote for;
‘cause crazy folks will run!”

But I thought that she was kidding;
that we’d always be free;
and these grifting, con-men’s lyin’
is what just tortures me!

The politicians fingering
their massive campaign fund,
while filing non-disclosures
to silence everyone.

Well, you knew we had it comin’
when we let these clowns win;
but I will be damned if I will
let it happen again!

We’re in a D.C. nightmare;
something we have to fix,
so that train it keeps a-rollin’
until November 6.

Well, when they free me from this chaos,
when that voting booth is mine,
you bet I’ll beat the bushes
and vote ‘em out right down the line.

Far from D.C.’s nightmare,
that’s where I’ll want to stay;
and we’ll send these ones a-packin’
to someplace far away.

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5 Responses to Two Poems — Washington DC

  1. Darla D Ledger says:

    Oh, Maren– Beautifully said. “Sharing a funnel cake, a country…”

  2. revlmftblog1 says:

    Love the Johnny Cash, I can hear it with Folsom Prison Blues. I’d love to have Trump in Folsom Prison…”and he ain’t coming back”.

    • Maren says:

      Yes! And you a Cash fan (I saw him once …. in Des Moines — know why I used the blackest type — for the man in black.

      • revlmftblog1 says:

        Since I was a kid. My parents have played his music, and I took it from there. I’ve never seen him live, but would have loved to. I love the albums he did toward the end of his career as well. I’m glad people appreciated him while he was still here.

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