The Lost Children — poems by Nancy Huxtable Mohr

For the Lost Children

This morning, I want to search
for lost children wrenched
from families at the border,
 
and sent in random directions
on random airplanes across states
to fit into random new lives.
 
Do these children step out of fear
in dreams and fly back to beds
next to siblings in Guadalajara
 
or escape cots covered with metallic
blankets, enclosed in cold storage
rooms on the US side of the Rio?
 
I hope tears are someday forgotten
and there is a faint blue in the hollow
of eyes in deep sleep. Their mothers,
 
will rescue and wrap them in longed-
for arms. In the news, I want to read
something incredible: Today, the lost
 
children escaped and drifted in peace
on pastel clouds pulling them
upwards along streams of soft air,
 
soaring in the wake of colored birds
leading to safety. The wind whispers
“You have been found”.
 
We must protect and release them,
repair rifts in this world so children
are kissed goodnight by parents
 
and moment to moment will trust
waiting strangers will not send them
flying away in nightmares of loss.

George Floyd’s Voice*

A night wind interrogates 
pines on Pescadero’s tangled 
coast. The roiled sea 
unbuckles, flattens.
 
Other sounds — a plaintive voice
pressed hard against my house.
Someone 
unbidden in my life.
 
Through the curtain-chink, I listen,
review dark thoughts of those
I might have hurt or actions left
                           undone.
 
I vow to examine my voice 
of privilege, pledge whatever
of my life remains. Words yet
unspoken.

*On May 25, 2020, George Floyd, a 46-year-old black American man, was killed in Minneapolis, Minnesota, during an arrest for allegedly using a counterfeit bill.


Lost

for Sarah
                           
You close your office door, 
walk down Larkin, careful 
to step over needles and feces.
Homeless with shopping carts 
ripple down the street. 
Moonlight reveals them, 
 
packed like a trout-thick stream.
April night weak with clouds.
Smells of salt and death. 
This air, this stench, this breath--
a grimness shallow and permanent.
 
All day, there were few words,
just pancakes for hungry lines.
Addicts to rehab. HIV tests for hookers.
Tents and food for newly arrived.
911 for newly dead. Victory cheers
for one who gets a degree or job. 
 
You don’t love this work but ask to belong.
You’ve known what it is to disappear.
You too have been lost in despair.
Now, you are allowed to go home,
then allowed to return to this work,
and allowed not to love it again.

©2020 Nancy Huxtable Mohr
All rights reserved


Nancy Huxtable Mohr has a B.S. from Cornell University and California Teacher’s Credential from San Francisco State. She is currently in independent study at Stanford University and is a member of the Community of Writers at Squaw Valley. She has recently published in Cider Press Review, Birdland JournalMangrove, ZZYZZA, Blueline, Concho River Review, Avocet and other publications. She taught for fifteen years as member of California Poets in the Schools in private and public schools and the San Mateo County Jail. In 2018, Butternut Press published her book of poetry, The Well. Her work can be seen on her website.

Author:

The focus of "The BeZine," a publication of The Bardo Group Beguines, is on sacred space (common ground) as it is expressed through the arts. Our work covers a range of topics: spirituality, life, death, personal experience, culture, current events, history, art, and photography and film. We share work here that is representative of universal human values however differently they might be expressed in our varied religions and cultures. We feel that our art and our Internet-facilitated social connection offer a means to see one another in our simple humanity, as brothers and sisters, and not as “other.” This is a space where we hope you’ll delight in learning how much you have in common with “other” peoples. We hope that your visits here will help you to love (respect) not fear. For more see our Info/Mission Statement Page.

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