Tag Archives: Poetry

This Land

This land, emblematic of her multitudinous and flawed inhabitants
Consists of varied features with their own perplexing presentations.

Vast arid plains which alternate from winter’s frigid to summer’s sultry grip.
Mountain ranges of different heights and temperaments.
Great Lakes with deeply cavernous plummets.
Rushing rivers that carry away precipitation toward
Oceans of endless water, wind and strength.

From the swamps of Florida and the bayou,
To the wheatfields of the Palouse and breadbasket that is the Midwest,
America is a geography diversified.

Like the people who have populated her, migrating from various other places.
These people, taking over that which was not theirs, have often
Convinced themselves they can reject others who were here first, or those who would follow later.

The curvature and evolution of this land is ever changing
Like a great dune that is wind swept this way then that.
From Kitty Hawk and the Outer Banks to the shores of Lake Michigan and the
Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado.
This, but one example of change the land both knows, endures and welcomes.

Consider too, though on a longer timeline, the change of canyons and landscapes
Where rivers have been ceaselessly carving, time standing as witness.
Or animal species who once roamed in mass, only to face near extinction,
Sometimes reintroduced. Change and the land have gone hand in hand.

A reminder, during what is a fragile period, that this land oft withstood when it seemed she might not. Withstood weather, economic challenge, civil war, political division and corrupt leaders.
Withstood to stand another day, waiting in hope as for a new dawn.

Far from perfect yet persevering, the homeland seeks to host those who know it and those who would.
An oasis, but sometimes a desert, she can be fickle.
She calls for fortitude from those who would prove up homesteads and speak for justice.

Dream? Yes, dream.  To be a place where children of all skin color, language and creed stand hand in hand to voice a song, pray a prayer, or learn a lesson.
Dream? Yes, dream. To be a place that favors not just those who measure wealth by mammon, but those who know richness comes in many denominations.
Dream? Yes, dream.  Be a dreamer just like those who first came to these shores, and
Those who still yearn to here dwell and be free.    

Dream, and then sing, taking up the prayerful lyrics of ancestors to not give up on the: 

“Land where (our) fathers died” but “from every mountain side”
Let freedom ring!
“No more shall tryants here with haughty steps appear”
But “let mortal tongues awake” and “let all that breathe partake”
“Long may our land be bright, with freedom’s holy light.
Protect us by Thy might, Great God, our king.”

© Daniel M. Cash 2025

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Filed under Holy Days, Passageways, Poetry, Travel

A Spring Pronouncement

Sprouts of green emerge
from winter’s slumber.
Persistent and hopeful against
the morning chill and March wind.

A foreshadowing of what will be.
Emissaries sent forth as harbingers of promise.
Some have been peeking forth for weeks.

These annual signs of seasonal transition
are visual reminders of rhythmic renewal.
While transitory figures bluster, they steadily return
– bespeaking the more solid footing of creation.

This too will come to pass – shoots of green,
blooms of color, fragrances of life.
Just as that too will one day pass,
noisy efforts at influence and posturing as if . . . . .

One seems very much eternal and offers reassurance.
The other will not last – “vanity of vanities” says the
Preacher of Ecclesiastes.

“A generation goes and a generation comes,
but the earth remains forever.” (Ecc. 1:4 NRSV)

© Daniel M. Cash 2025

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Filed under Passageways, Poetry, Seasons

Threshold Moments

Standing in the passageway with nervous expectation.
Determining the direction of steps not yet taken.
Whether to move forward toward an unrehearsed future,
or to retreat back to a familiar bastion of complacency.

Such are the questions of liminal spaces, which provide
puzzlement and entanglement to both fact and faces.

Weighing adventure against the safety of known routine.
It’s something like a morning shave or the exhilaration of stepping out.
The surprise is not to be here again, but that it took so long between.

Visits to this terrain being by nature repetitive;
part of chronology’s push beyond the screen.
Three steps forward, two steps back.
Advancing and retreating – such a common dance.

The music begins, will you?

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Filed under Passageways, Poetry, Uncategorized