Due to technical problems beyond our control, Monday’s Poem of the Week is being posted late today, instead of our usual time. We apologize for the delay, but hope you enjoying the following piece, which, at least to me, appears timely for many today.


Everything is nervous here, vibrating

to the hum of air conditioning.

Outside, the palms are never still.

Inside, palms sweat in high anxiety.

Even the indifferent chameleon

sunning on the hot veranda

blows his red sac as a warning.

On the Gulf a tropical depression

brews a hurricane. Depression

in this place is deeper still,

this space where hopes die,

wishes fail, silent waiting ends

as the next white-coated person

speaks of trying everything.

And the coldness that comes then

makes the heat of anger welcome,

like the coming storm.

Robert L. Jones

This entry was posted in America, Health and wellness, Mental Health, Poetry, Thoughts & Musings and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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