Where are the words

            that could save

            the world?


            That could sing

            out of pain


            or resurrect death

            like a daffodil?


            I see the sun rise up,

            the moon, as if


            no one had suffered,

            no jobs had been jerked,


            surgeries botched,

            wives beaten,


            children abandoned

            as limp dolls.


            The murderers,

            the plutocrats, the liars


            rise again

            like mushrooms

            after the rain


            and yet


            this family of deer

            stand momentarily

            alongside the fence



            their options


            before the neighbor’s dog

            barks like Cerberus


            and they

            scatter into green.



                                   David Radavich





Return to Christmas Poems

Return to Home Page