annus miribilus

I remember starkly Queen Elizabeth delivering a speech in 1992--the year before I'd join her landmass, more or less--and the 'annus horribilis' she declared, incognizant of Paris paparazzi taking all her perceived messiness to another level. It must be hard to be a queen not-in-charge of anything.

Our plebeian family could declare 2015 one way or another. I'm pleased Mom has channeled the Seraphim--the guardian angels that affirm, "where two or three are gathered in my name," and likely hang around for isolated souls who trust in God. We've had our needs for hospitals in 2015; we've also witnessed miracles, on the levels of Lazarus and oil lamps.

From our side, the year has provided for Katerina's better back, Josef's band performing to 400, Ben enjoying his art school, Emma grooving generally, me returning to Kiev for a cross-country championship, Bronko being a dog's dog, perfectly. We've inexplicably lost almost all our other pets, maybe as a blessing in disguise.

Paris is in our prayers, as well as Ankara, Beirut and countless other sites. Annus horribilis applies in this regard, all the more eschewing whatever Her Highness griped about in 1992. And so my segue, on petulant perspectives...

We were presented with a student perspective of what is 'relevant' in modern education. Try not to gag: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xe6nLVXEC0

Poetry cannot be too easy. Including my current losing streak (now on three):

lowest common denominator

Raging on the internet is a kid

who’s trying to rhyme:

“I was never taught how to vote,

they devoted that time

to defining isotopes.” Indicted,

his teachers hang their heads

or fade away in ‘relevance’.

Enraged a different way, a kid

from Belgium blows up

Paris, flaunting fingerprints like

a robber mocking cops:

catch me if you can!... Excited,

we take that bait and parlay

fitful prayers of petulance.

Self-interest and what defines

the rest of us is forcing

lcd: calculations less inclined to

set our minds coursing

beyond the blind, the sighted,

the guides already codified,

the watchdogs at a dance.

To study that beyond! Bodkins

aren’t required to make

conditions of quietus, whatever

kind of dreams at stake;

we wake and walk benighted,

rushing to a source of light,

buying into circumstance.

Teach, we’ve got to get this right!