Cinderella Lost

Has anyone seen her
my sister
with the tattered skirt?

She was passing through
just a moment ago
with little ones in her arms
and a sack around her hip.

We used to dream together
hiding under the bed with
flashlights
pretending we were
going to the ball
to meet the Prince.

We said we would share
our slippers made of glass
and take turns baking
bread for him

but he turned out
to be an ordinary man.
Knew nothing of glass slippers,
Can you believe it?!

Joanne Cucinello

No Season for Peace

In every time, in every
season
wherever there is
breath
the same wars continue . . .

Young men fight to protect~
old men wave their fists
Women cry to heaven "Why?!!"
Missing limbs lay
scattered on the
bloody fields
crying . . .
"Don't leave me!"

Medals turn to rust
in dusty closets
undisturbed small tokens
of remembrance for the brave
who wake at night
in terror still.

Few have pity
when the gun points
and so the Earthly Mother,
rocks her orphans
one more time . . . one more time.

Mercy . . . Mercy
cry the stars!

Joanne Cucinello 2009