Nancy L. Meek


I gazed upon the stars on high
until they vanished from the sky;
for in the east and to my right
the sun, arising… burning bright,
draped the night with azure blue
like curtains closing on the view,
the moon and stars still surely there
somewhere behind the blue affair;

then Flipping through My Magazine…

I gazed upon the tracers’ beams
until I heard the children’s screams;
for in the dark and napalmed night
the camera captured more than light
as teen-aged stars upon war’s stage,
charred like steaks, leapt off the page,
the-god-they-screamed-to silent there
somewhere behind the mad affair;

then Turning back to Present Day…

I gazed upon the birds on high
until I wished I, too, could fly;
for come the west and setting sun
another day will soon be done,
while here I’ll sit still, mag-in-hand,
still trying like heck to understand
why wars are here… why stars shine there
and the freakin’ birdies still don’t care.