Whenever Terror Strikes

Whenever terror strikes, wherever death
enshrouds the land, its people live in fright
of crowded places. Masses hold their breath.
Perhaps another truck will crash tonight.

We gather, hand in hand, for loss enshrined
or hold aloft the candle’s golden flame.
The dripping wax upon our skin in-kind
recalls our lives will never be the same.

In time, surviving souls absorb attacks
and life returns to norm when peace beguiles.
Instead of crowding exits, folks relax
and force upon their lips distracted smiles.

With each attack, our fears emerge again
when terror’s guts and gore bestain the slain.


O Come Away

O come away, O come away today.
The water’s warm, the wind is mild, my child.
O never stay, O never stay away.
The shore adores where sun beguiled has smiled.

The waves refill your prints upon the sand.
They tug your toes as water ebbs and flows.
The salty air embraces souls inland.
Inhale, exhale the spell that sparks and grows.

A day before the plane departs, you cry
and crowd the pier to watch the sun descend
into the ocean’s blue beneath the sky.
The time arrives when rest achieves an end.

Each heart attaches hope and binds a dream
to places lovers hold in high esteem.


André Le Mont Wilson morphed into a poet, writer, songwriter, and storyteller soon after his parents, both poets, died in 2012 eleven weeks apart, bequeathing him hundreds of poems. He performs around the San Francisco Bay Area where he lives. His essays and poetry have appeared in The New Engagement, Haiku Anthology, Page & Spine, Changing Harm to Harmony, and Wordgathering. 


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