Passing by

Passing By

Someone is dying and someone is about to be born
someones are living, passing the day under blue sky
someones are nearly dead from despairs
under stresses and strains of cruelty
someone died and someone is born.

the sun shines on those parts of the world
that have turned to it, the dark will get its turn
someone is dying and someone is about to be born
there is a bee on the bramble, legsacs heavy with pollen
he buzzes on busy with his honey making.

The bees are dying while pollen drifts
the world turns on corporate money making
someone is lying and someone’s heart is torn
someone is kind and the heart lifts
for hope in the spirit not quite gone.

The leaves have turned green again, blossom is drifting
children are playing out where its green.
Cars have returned to the roads that were quiet
Birds again sing unheard and unseen
Grieve for the dying wherever they’ve been.

Someone is dead and someone is born
someone is happy another forlorn
A butterfly stirs within the cocoon
A fish swims away from the river to ocean
Child cartwheels, bee buzzes, heart beats.

Someone is dying, and someone is not yet born.

If you read LiYoung Lee’s poem: My Father’s House you will see I have borrowed the motif from that poem where here and there he repeats lines: “someone has died and someone is not yet born”. That’s all I borrowed in writing Passing By, but I owe Li-Young much else from the times I met him at Block island Poetry Project.