POEMS by ANNE

By
ANNE WARD-MASTERSON

7/31/20

Death comes everyday
Every hour
Sometimes I can forget
But COVID-19
Escorts so many
Famous faces
To the land of the dead
It fills our minds
Making every-day death
More shocking
Today
Fellow Alaskans
Fishers, who knew how
To play hard, too
Left us
So young to cross the river
So young before the throne
Tested in the crucible so young
We would cast our tears before
Your feet
Like rose petals
If we could


7/17/20

Since John wrote it,
we Christians have been on guard.
No one wants
the mark of the beast.
Poets, philosophers,
even theologians,
preachers,
seem sure it is physical.
An in the world,
visible marker.
A sign a person has permanently
chosen evil,
over the renewing
love, and grace of Christ.
But what if
it is our hearts,
allowing wounding,
malignant neglect
of others, no matter our faith?
What if
the attitude
“I’ve got mine,
too bad for you.”
making a rift in our hearts,
is the true mark of the beast?