WHEN THE NEXT DELUGE COMES

by Debra Orben

When the water comes rushing, gushing down,

Where will you be?

 

Stranded by the side of a flooded road with limited visibility

By the ocean’s edge witnessing the newest high tide

On a mountain top watching the hillside give way to landslide

In a clear-cut forest, seeing newly planted seedlings uprooted

In a homeless encampment without shelter from the pelting

In an old tired house whose roof leaks and windows creak

Standing amid ruins of your former refuge, now burned home

Or helpless as water rises higher, reaching beyond the first floor.

 

Place matters, we can all shelter from the coming storms

But not all in one place and not all places are safe

Some will survive, but left without anchoring memories

No sanctuary from the coming days of floods and fires

No arks or promising rainbows on the horizon.

 

If only we could build bridges high enough and connections

Deep enough to withstand our climate’s growing heat and fury.

If only we could make sure no one is left to drown

Before the next deluge comes trying to wash us all away.

Debra Orben is a retired elementary teacher and Quaker activist who cares deeply about the natural world and the future of all children.  She is an aspiring poet whose poems have been published in several anthologies, including ICE Out by Moonstone Press and Pennsylvania Bards, Easter PA Poetry Review 2026  published by Local Gems Press.

PILLOW FROM PALESTINE

by Debra Orben

Israeli forces killed at least 60 Palestinians in Gaza on Wednesday, most of them as they were seeking food from a US-Israeli distribution scheme, according to local health authorities. Medical officials said at least 25 people were killed and dozens wounded as they approached a food distribution centre run by the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF), near Netzarim in central Gaza. Later in the day, at least 14 people were killed by Israeli gunfire as they were moving towards another GHF distribution site, in Rafah, at Gaza’s southern border. On Tuesday Israeli troops killed 17 Palestinians around GHF sites. –The Guardian, June 11, 2025

           Resting silently on our couch

        a pillow we have had for a long time

off-white woven fabric, hand embroidery,

four rows of a repeating pattern, star flowers

mingled with hearts that touch and overlap

  stitched only in my favorite color, turquoise

  purchased from a friend of a friend visiting

    from the Middle East, selling handwork

      by women, women sewing designs

          to help their families survive 

            and thrive under difficult  

                       circumstances.

 

                 Today, I gaze at our pillow

              soft and lovely in its simple artistry

         noticing only harsh edges and rough reality

     seeing famished faces, bloodshot vacant eyes,

      people devoid of hope, hungry, and destitute

      and the silence of our gentle keepsake mocks

          the unrelenting screams of unheard cries

            ignores the daily suffering of all in Gaza

            cruelty fueled by the fervor of revenge

               an excess of indifference, what more

                  can we do to end war, change

                            circumstances?

Debra Orben is a retired elementary teacher who believes in life-long learning.  She enjoys volunteering with children, gardening, reading, and writing.  She works to plant trees, protect biodiversity, and address climate change.  As a Quaker she believes that all people deserve a just, healthy, and peaceful world.  She appreciates the beauty and diversity of human beliefs and cultures and the diversity of the natural world.  She has much to learn and writes about it. 

DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE GOT TILL IT’S GONE

by Debra Orben

A fierce wind blew, background music played,
the crowd flowed along Sellersville’s Main Street,
signs and banners streamed high and low 
as young and old joined in the chant NO KINGS.
 
Conversations swirled around me, as I tried
to steady my handmade sign buffeted 
by gusts of variable winds, changing rules
and alliances, an ongoing litany of losses.
 
Gone in a gale, diversity, equity, inclusion,
swept away in the squall, federal workers
who protected our health, welfare, and security,
anyone who dared mention The Gulf of Mexico.
 
We protested as one, the storm of cruel changes,
the orders of self-proclaimed kings and billionaires
proclamations cutting aid to the poor, new rules
attacking differences and our environment.
 
Grabbed by uncertainty, sensing the agony 
of the poor, undocumented, unrecognized,
I no longer understand my country of birth
our supposed democracy of red, white, and blue. 
 
Our flag appears fragile and tattered
as the federal government turns its back 
on ordinary people, rules, laws, and precedents,
does an about-face on foreign policy.
 
But then I look around me, at banners 
and signs, at wrinkled faces and bent backs,
at young mothers with children in tow,
at men and women who dare say no.

Democracy is here, not only in this small town.
Look for it in schools, libraries, voting booths.
Listen for it in houses of worship,
messages to Congress, letters to the editor.

We won’t know what we’ve lost till it’s gone.
My sign printed on recycled cardboard 
states Diversity, Honesty, Justice Matter.
Like me, keep holding your signs high.
It’s not all gone yet.

Debra Orben is a retired elementary teacher who cares deeply about the world we are leaving for our children. She is grateful to live in a beautiful part of Bucks County, PA and strive to protect the natural world that she is a part of. As a Quaker, she values truth, peace, and integrity. As an aspiring writer, she is mindful of the words she uses and grateful for the power of the words we share.