Laurie Kuntz
No Words
When things are unspeakable
I crawl inside a shell
the kind that does not echo
the sea storms that I tread.
I surrender words to a silence
that I think will heal,
but the only healing
is in the telling—
A simple poem to give back the words.
Scenes From A Playground in Gaza
Bat and ball on a bench,
father and son on a swing,
pumping past stares and judgment,
the dangers they face day by day,
now the father's muscled hands hold
the swing's chains, promise not to let go,
his son's joy a shriek in the wind
on this jacket-less October morning.
The swing reaches an unsteady height
and the boy believes he can touch
the sky's frontier, where everyone is safe
and boundless, encased in a winter wary breeze.
The father tells his son to hold tight,
as if what we hold onto will protect
a father’s promise, but a vow is not enough
as a veil of fear surrounds us all.
When I turn my head and look again, they are gone,
but the swing taken by a ruthless wind still sways.
“This poem was written after the senseless and brutal murder of Tyre Nichols.” —Laurie Kuntz
Laurie Kuntz’s books are: That Infinite Roar, Gyroscope Press, Talking Me Off The Roof, Kelsay Books, The Moon Over My Mother’s House, Finishing Line Press, Simple Gestures, Texas Review Press, Women at the Onsen, Blue Light Press, and Somewhere in the Telling, Mellen Press. Simple Gestures won Texas Review’s Chapbook Contest, and Women at the Onsen won Blue Light Press’s Chapbook Contest. She’s been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and two Best of the Net Prizes. Her work has been published in Gyroscope Review, Roanoke Review, Third Wednesday, One Art, Sheila Na Gig, and other journals. More at: www.lauriekuntz.myportfolio.com/home-1