Resistence

I write to define the things I feel.. the frustrations, the fear and uncertainty of what’s coming. This is a piece I started writing for an NYC Midnight rhyming contest. I didn't use this but the story still speaks to me... In this world of crazy and false prophets, my hope is that we’ll see through this horrific charade to the other side of things. To those suffering from the actions of this heartless regime, I’m truly sorry.

Keep tossing your seeds – we need new growth.

The Plague

Thrusting her hands into the cool, loamy soil,

Soleil nestled her seeds in a circular coil.

Round and around, starbursts in the making,

Her magical herbs cured all of the aching.

Of villagers’ woes, snake bites and heartbreak.

Was she a witch? Or midwife’s mistake?

Despite the gossip surrounding her birth,

She provided a service, proving her worth.

Healing the sick, predicting the rain...

Villagers prospered with good crops of grain

But one chilly morning, Catbird called Tee Hee,

When Soleil’s ruffian hound, managed to tree

A young man wandering lost in the wood

Near her forested cottage, in the dogwood.

He arrived bearing news of a terrible kind

Neighbors to the east had all lost their minds

A plague of amnesia, hate and despair,

Infiltrated the village, no family spared.

Victims forgot their stories... their pasts

Of kindness and love and sharing repasts.

Now they turned on each other, eager to burn

All crops to the ground, though starving they’d turn.

Soleil listened in silence to this shattering news.

She wondered the cause… was it booze or the blues?

Would it arrive in her town? Was there hope for a cure?

Was this something new? Or was it a someone, a lure?

She’d heard tales of a prophet: a loud, heavy talker,

Full of paranoid visions - a hawker and shocker.

He boasted and raved… set the people on edge.

Destruction was coming, this was his pledge.

Hoard all your cakes, let no strangers pass.

They’re wolves in sheep clothes… they’ll take all you have.

Arm yourself to the teeth, no one’s to be trusted.

Not your neighbor or brother, or you’ll be dusted.

Soleil had assumed no one would heed the brash calls,

Of his obsessive insistence of building tall walls,

To keep out those different, even the old and the poor.

Only the rich, brave and fit should be allowed through the door.

But his voice prattled on, shrill from above,

Rousing scared villagers, intolerant of

Strangers and peddlers… anyone who

Threatened their livelihood or asked for a sou.

There’d been dubious prophets in earlier times

One or two gained traction, others declined.

This one was different, holding ears of the masses

Promoting thunder and wrath, wearing blood-colored glasses.

Soleil had a thought, and she employed the young gent

Freed from her tree, they eagerly went,

With pockets of seeds, an idea and a prayer.

They covered ground fast, astride her gray mare.

Within her pouch of miraculous seeds,

She carried an amulet that brought rain to the weeds.

Along the path to the village square

They dropped piles of seeds, no inch of ground spared

The seeds sprouted madly, when the land was disturbed

Riots of color: luscious fruits, flowers and herbs

Tumbling from cottages, with eyes wide, intrigued.

Smiles came to their faces, fear finally fatigued.

Gazing at each other, the world washed anew

Amidst glorious smells and flamboyant hues.

No longer bleak, hateful and mad,

The villagers cast off the doddering Cad.

Still angry and noisy, incoherently raging,

Without masses of ears, he began rapidly aging.

Withered and stooped, his voice weakened and waned.

Hate curdled his lips, he slunk away shamed.

Soleil was relieved to find her old village back.

Trotting home on her mare, she knew his attack

Could return one day soon. Too much was at stake,

For a tyrant on a mission, and a people to break.

But all was not lost, she hoped they’d remember

Not to follow false prophets, stoking his ember.

People clustered together. They knew their mistake.

Next time he showed, they'd see him for a snake.

Copyright 2025 Cathy Schieffelin