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Destiny

© Robert Louis Covington

Robert's email

Emanating from a deep loving conjugal
experience, a one night stand, disgusting
and brutal rape, self serving sexual joy,
in-vitro fertilization, or craze of lovesick,
unwitting teens—there are billions of us.

Billions of good, gametic things, allied
and fixed, but perhaps not so good, reliant
on your point of view.

Gametic, vitalized couplings become me—
a living embryo that many want to study
for healing damaged life, ending my growth
into a fetus or unborn baby, depending
on your point of view.

Either way, in a warm womb, safe for now,
I hear useless chatter, plots of destruction,
hostility. Sounds of joy, derisive laughter.
Universal sobs of hunger, disease, poverty,
violence. Tranquil melodies, jarring beats,
appalling lyrics. Anger, addiction, profanity,
murder. I bear acuity—

sometimes perceptions of emerging a divine
dedication, and sometimes insights of agony,
a lonely decision to discard me, subjectively;
supposing what I may encumber or become.

Studying me or not, aborting me or not,
birthing me or not, may be distressing—
owing to your view whether I’m life
or potential life.

Yet unborn, but definitely alive, I hear
noises, bittersweet, dire cries of humanity.
My innate godliness cries for opportunity
to make things better, to seek, to follow
my divine dedication.




Keep Smiling

© Robert Louis Covington

Yesterday was engaging, and I am exulting
with hope another comes my way, beating
back gloom, the enemy’s pit of doom, and
bump after bump rising in my resolute path.

I saw a black man yesterday with a pack
on his back, but smiling; though his grimy
sack carried everything he owned.

Then a yellow man served me where I
stopped to eat some rice and zesty meat,
and to relax my weary feet upon his moon
speckled floor, and he was also smiling.

As well, along the way, I met a pallid man
with attaché; swiftly in route to the business
of the day, he was likewise smiling away
and smartly arrayed in gray pin-striped attire.

The happiest I saw was a tan man, smiling
too, with his landscaping crew, wielding
mower and blower, with the freshness
of dawn, prancing over chicly manicured
lawns and gardens.

The day hastened on, and like yesterday I saw
similar men. Though black became pallid,
pallid turned to tan, yellow changed to black
and tan switched to yellow, the fellows were
still smiling.

I also saw a vibrant, panacean man who held
giant redwoods and Mount Everest in his
hands, with vast oceans and lands. He again
and again in the black, pallid, yellow and tan
gives reason to keep smiling.


 

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