Poetry2ponder's Blog

“I Dreamt Of Being Tortured” by Trevor Witt

I dreamt of being tortured,
Stabbed over and over,
With a butter knife,
Pressed into my skin,
Under my left collar bone,
Next to my shoulder,
Into my stomach as well.
Maybe it is the nightmare of the current war,
Seeping into my dreams like toxic sludge,
Or maybe it was memories of middle school,
When classmates through small rocks at me in PE,
Or maybe it was flashbacks to the times my parents were yelling,
Late at night, because my private school tuition was costing them and arm and a leg,
Maybe it was a premonition about the horrifying experiences faced by POWs,
It felt like torture, dreaming of being prodded, poked, and stabbed.

And surprisingly, in my dream,
It was an imaginary ex-girlfriend,
A stalker who would not let me go.

Then I woke up, after three hours of sleep,
With no girlfriend, no war, no one beside me,
Only the dark night and the cool, quiet breeze, with nowhere to go.

“Itsy Bitsy Blessings” by Trevor Witt

Itsy bitsy blessings,
Like crawling and singing,
And learning to write
To retain knowledge,
To improve a process,
To practice a craft,
Warm coffee and a cool breeze,
Thank you Universe for these.

“I met my enemy” by Trevor Witt

I met my enemy
Outside the gates of our expectations,
Past the confines of our history,
As a stranger I had never known,
Despite trepidation and hurt,
I met them with curiosity,
And from that day on,
A friendship has grown.

“The bully throws pieces of paper at me” by Trevor Witt

The bully throws pieces of paper at me,
In class, while the teacher doesn’t see –
Or maybe she pretends not to.

What can she do?
If he gets in trouble,
He will take it out on me.
What can I do?

After telling him to stop,
He challenges me to a fight.
I cannot let the bully win.
His friend backs him up,
But neither wants to fight me alone.
Meeting after school, I am afraid.
I asked a friend for backup,
But I don’t remember if they came.
We all threw down our backpacks,
Ready to throw jabs and kicks,
But instead we just talked shit.

We were all afraid.

In the end, I walked away unscathed.
No punches were thrown,
No one was hurt,
But I stood up to my bully that day.

At the same time, it could have been so much worse,
One of us could have ended up in a hearse.
Violence is the refuge of the terrified and angry, the hurt and afraid.
In my heart of hearts, I hope those boys are okay.

“I oppose bullies with every fiber of my being” by Trevor Witt

Volodymyr Zelensky,
My hero, my brother,
Poems and legends will be told
Of his bravery and his truths
Long after the history of this war has grown old.

I am sad I cannot stand with you,
But I find my heart unwilling to kill,
I bear no person or creature ill will.

Yet I stand in solidarity,
For this war, there is a certain moral clarity.
While Vladimir Putin clings to images of the past,
His actions are creating refugees fast.

There is no excuse for invasion and occupation,
No matter the historical ties of the nation.
If we justify present belligerence by past atrocities,
We simply create more tragedies and future animosity.

This is true across time and space,
In Belfast and Addis Ababa, Jerusalem and Alsace.

While I reject violence and seek peace,
I do not expect resistance to cease.
While Putin expects Ukraine to fall
Ordinary people heed Zelensky’s call,
Standing in front of Russian convoys,
People are not pawns; they are not Putin’s toys.

As Putin started the invasion,
Zelensky continued to call for peace.
As Putin called Zelensky a Nazi,
Russian propaganda did not cease.

Zelensky’s grandpa fought the Nazis
In the Soviet army and lost three brothers.
Does Putin care if Russian sons die? If he makes
Grief and devastation for thousands of Russian mothers?

To paraphrase journalist Daniel Pearl,

I am a Jew.
My father is a Jew.
My mother is a Jew,
And Zelensky is a Jew.

We value life and freedom, compassion and justice.
Having experienced redemption, we want these not just for us.
I am a Jew and my religion teaches me not just to believe, but to do,
To be kind, to seek justice and pursue it, to clothe the needy, and to welcome the stranger,
To free the oppressed, and to oppose the tyrant, not just for me, but for you too.

I oppose bullies with every fiber of my being,
And I find it hard to believe what I am seeing.
How can a father of two daughters – Putin – cause pain for so many?
What kind of leader sends their troops to occupy neighbors?
This is not justified in this case or in any.
Occupying forces always fail –
After tragedies run their course.

I stand against violence and with every oppressed person,
Whether their name is Volodymyr, Vladimir, Salim, or Shalom.
Whether their name is MacDonald, Gaurav, or Gershon,
Every people should feel safe in their home.

I am a Jew and what Israel is doing to Palestinians is wrong.
The Irish, the Indians, and African-Americans have sang the same song.
As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “let freedom ring”,
So too will we Survivors, in solidarity sing,

Let my people go,
Way down in Egypt land,
Tell old Putin,
Let my people go.

Every Pharaoh and every Caesar,
Faces plagues and a Brutus.
We all long to be free.
You will never subdue us.

Zelensky and I are Jews,
Like Mordechai, we will
Never bow to you.

“There is no field you can hide from G-d above (Love)” by Trevor Witt

There is no field you can hide from G-d above,
G-d is my shield, found in every expression of love.
Love is in every rock and river,
In my warm blanket when I shiver.
Love is in the clouds and the rain,
The desire for life amidst great pain.
Love is in birds singing and chirping,
And in babies whining and crying and burping.
Love is in our looks of awe when our curiosity overwhelms us,
And in our hugs and kisses when family returns to us.
There is no mountain where love cannot be found.
It is in every sky and ocean, even underground.

You cannot kill love with missiles.
You cannot control it with bombs.
While hatred and anger rage,
Love balms and it calms.

The tyrant seeks control because fear thrashes within.
Yet they will claim with certitude that they never sin.
With arrogance overgrown, and empathy rarely shown,
They close themselves off and make love unknown.

Let go of the fear,
Allow yourself to shed a tear,
For love will find you,
Whether you are there or here.

“Thieves” by Trevor Witt

Thieves,
Taking because they can,
Because they
Want to
Need to
Because they
Were not taught better
Know no other way.

Stolen hat,
Bright blue,
Which meant so much to me.

I got it back eventually.

Stolen car,
Old Honda,
My only way around town.

It was never found.

The pen in my hand,
From the restaurant Eureka,
It was an accident,

But I did not return the pen.

“My memory is full of holes (that my mind could never grasp)” by Trevor Witt

My memory is full of holes;
My picture of my past is never complete,
With questions about my childhood,
And less salient curiosities –
My breakfast last Wednesday.
Only a week ago,
I was in a different state,
With more joy, and less confusion,
On an alternate plane of existence,
But I took the plane back
From LA to LA,
New Orleans, Louisiana to Lost Angeles,
City of forgotten angels,
City of dreams, city of falling through the cracks.
Back in the real world,
The music of the birds is my comfort.
There is noise all around –
Traffic, chit-chatting, and the car engine humming –
But I dare not make a sound.
The birds are the only real music here,
All the jazz has died,
Because people refuse to hear,
The feelings bubbling up.
The trumpet and the saxophone,
Playing off the beat,
Like my memories of dancing feet,
Distorted by feelings and gaps,
The music brings healing,
That my mind could never grasp.