baffled by mercy

when i trust you

and put my hope hoping you

for me will make things work

with my field giving a plentiful harvest

and my cattle, numerously, multiply

you let me down badly

with your refusal

to open windows of heaven

for showers to fall on ground

instead

you open doors of pestilence

to strike my cattle

then i trusted you not

from you

nothing i expected

but you then

flood me with blessings, baffling

me with your unlimited mercy

henry victor     17.04.2003

racism: a reverse evolution

i put on the skin of a prairie buffalo

to keep my chin up cheerfully

at a time when i am unemployed

in this land of plentitude of prejudice

my wearing of this skin for too long

makes my heart pound like a buffalo’s

even as i now feel like this hardy creature

becoming extinct in its chosen territory

the stink emanating from this skin

permeates into to my blood stream

feeding my brain to think like a buffalo

as i roam in this green land

i have in the past heard of reincarnation

and have explored the natural selection

as i studied in school theories of evolution

but reverse i see: an immigrant to a buffalo

henry victor      25.04.2007

my languish in land of plenty

unlike my daughter running and floating

in air like a lark in the meadow

far, far from the corrupting cities

i drive through the rolling hills

taking also note of the abandoned

abundant agricultural machinery scattered

beside deteriorating log houses of the prairie

a space i exchanged for shores of the oceans

and at the end of the hot summer with rain

enough to keep me cool but no grassland

for me to graze, unlike the lavish cows

lewd horses, and lazy lamas, i ponder

but with no Pysanka, the talismanic power

of the Ukrainians nor the dream-catchers

of the first nation to transform

my misfortunes into a land of harvest

or that Albertan store house of gasoline

with a steady pumping of slow moving pumps

while i languish with hunger and a loss

of direction in this land of plentiful plenty

© henry victor     01.09.2003

tasted life, or wasted

i waited for my ship’s sailing

that never left the harbor, and i wasted
my time watching noisy gulls flapping
and fretting and sliding and singing

and i returned home regretting

spending those hours not learning
the skill of pearl-fishing, or to practice
netting fish to fatten my wallet

when i return then to my beginning, my end

will i be considered as one wasted, or tasted
life, I know not, for going only with the music
of my sisters, fellow creatures, in my soul

henry victor    05.06.2002

buying and selling

unlike those days in my motherland, today
in my adopted-land despite its abundance
rarely i find one to give, or to receive
but in plenty are those that sell, or for buying

what cannot be sold is dumped

for elimination with those incapable
to buy, and those who lobby giving
too, will be pushed to the margin

to be marginalized, to be maligned

and silenced like a sheep ready for shearing
in a world taking from, and taking ruthlessly,
acceptable, than sharing with the needy

henry victor     28.08.2013