HOW WE ROLL

Prelude to prayer and action

by Darrell Petska

AI-generated gif by NightCafé for The New Verse News.

Killing. Maiming.
Forever grieving.
That’s how we’ve rolled
since descending from trees
and living in caves.
Rolled with spear, with bow,
with sword, gun, and bomb.
Killing. Maiming.
For power, gold or spite,
god or country, king or knave.
Forever grieving.
Our own graves digging
or those of our loved ones.

Is killing our imperative?
Sorrow forever to yoke our necks?
Or might we have (we must believe
we have) hidden wings
awaiting prayer and act
to relieve us of these roads we roll on,
spill blood on, die on over and over
until life is cheapened, some cruel curse?
Wings we can will to grow,
to spirit away hatred, envy, and fear.
Wings at long last on which to fly
along peaceable skyways promoting
unity, egality, and love.

Darrell Petska is a retired university engineering editor and three-time Pushcart Prize nominee. Father of five and grandfather of seven, he lives near Madison, Wisconsin with his wife of more than 50 years.

HUMAN

by Darrell Petska

Photograph and sculpture by Yuichi Ikehata

I’m part American, part Czech, part
Israeli and Kenyan, part Russian, Swedish,
Palestinian, part northern hemisphere
and southern, part all things spawned
from stardust in the roiling sea of space,

so why does my body war with itself,
one eye peering left, the other right, one ear
denying what the other one hears, each leg
opposing the other’s direction while my hands
hammer and claw each other till they bleed?

One by one, I pare away my warring parts,
yet the battles rage on. Soon, of all I was,
only my two-sided heart shall remain.
Already, each side argues a different allegiance—
surely one will stop beating just to spite the other,

and there I’ll lie, at last a heap of bones some
beast shall drag into its lair as lesson to its offspring
of what transpires when a body’s many parts
fail to live in harmony. More fortunate stolid
stone and knobbly bark than unruly human flesh.

Darrell Petska, a Wisconsin poet, is one part of a large and loving family.

FINDING THE WORDS

by Darrell Petska

On the lookout for Chinese balloons for as long as it takes to be photographed.

Where within our nature that calls forth deities

exemplifying boundless love and mercy

Where on intellect’s rich plain that grows
a bounty of life-affirming arts and sciences

Where within the confines of flesh that spark
unbounded imagination and indomitable will—

Where are the words to convince us
that wars are not intrinsic to human nature, 
the road to lasting peace never passing 
through war, arms build-ups, and nuclear threats? 

What words are we missing to let us see
beyond sides to the one and only human side?

The words exist, but unless we find them soon,
we could miss forever our chance to use them.

Darrell Petska is a Middleton, Wisconsin poet. His faith in humanity, though sorely tested right now, holds strong.