Category: Poetry

The Gilded Embarrassment

it’s hard to look
at what our image has become,
withering compassion
and torn-up roses.
the world watches in shock and awe
at the gilded embarrassment.

it’s hard to hold a mirror
to our own shadow
and see the age lines and wrinkles
that show not wisdom
but rather folly.
instead of honest self-reflection,
we build a ballroom.

the emperor is already naked
and half the people cheer
as if it’s some kind of dignity.
i’ll never understand.

Just Passing Through

On my way to the grocer on a rainy saturday in a strange town somewhere near montgomery someone at an intersection asked me for directions to a church on birch street where they had to meet their people for a funeral

I said i’m sorry for your loss because i’ve borne that cross and i wish i could help but i’m a stranger here myself and i’m a little bit lost and confused about where i am, man

Yeah, i’m just passing through
I’m just passing through

I’m trying to get to my home back up north where i used to live but i got waylaid by things i can’t control that hurt my soul so i stayed and i prayed

I’m just passing through

That i might understand what this world is trying to tell me and sell me and if there’s a god and if he befell me because i’m sure hell ain’t real and i question heaven too

Yeah, i’m just passing through

You know sometimes i wake up in the night and something don’t feel right like there’s an eminent threat remnant of my childhood with sinister characters up to no good taking liberties to appease themselves by creating others’ miseries

And i’ve tried so hard in this life to be a man and i had a wife and we had a daughter that didn’t make it and another one that i’ve had to fight to protect through abuse and neglect and it scares me to leave her alone but i know  someday i will, it’s true

Because i’m just passing through
I’m just passing through

God i get so tired of all the bullshit i see going on around me and i want to be free from the drama and the trauma delivered by people in power getting worse by the hour

I’m just passing through

And i wonder if there’s really something on the other side, a place to reside where there’s just a little more peace and no beasts or burdens or heartbreak making me blue

Yeah, i’m just passing through

I’m trying to get to the other side
There’s gotta be something better
I ain’t ready for my own funeral
But i need a change of weather

So i got to the store and i bought a few things to get me by a few days because you never know when the whole thing’s gonna blow and you’ll just slip away into the unknown and maybe that’s home or maybe it’s not but right now the here and now is all i’ve got so i’ll make the best of it yeah, that’s what i’ll do

Because i’m just passing through
I’m just passing through

And lord knows there’s a reason that i’ve spent all my seasons doing best i could and i might not be perfect but i’ve tried to be good and i’ve believed even when the christians turned away

I’m just passing through

So if i die tonight i hope i might find the corridor to another place with lots of space and another level where everybody ain’t in my face for every little thing i do

I’m just passing through
I’m trying to get to the other side
Yeah, i’m just passing through
There’s gotta be something better
Huh, i’m just passing through
I ain’t ready for my own funeral
I’m just passing though
But we need a change of weather
Yeah, i’m just passing through

Words Copyright 2026 by Dan Steven Erickson

Minerva

i saw your aunt Minerva
last night in a dream
she was walking through an airport
or somewhere in the in-between
it may have been a blessing
it may  have been a curse
considering the history
i don’t know which is worse

she wore some kind of bonnet
her body small and frail
i caught her squinting eyes
behind a see-through veil
she walked directly toward me
i neither hoped nor feared
i felt a sense of dispensation
and then she simply disappeared

i saw your aunt Minerva
i never knew her well
but I know she knew the secret
that your mother will not tell
of horrors that went unspoken
of boundaries that were broken
of shrieks in bedrooms
and ancient heirlooms
of Egyptian spells
and living hells

i saw your aunt Minerva
last night in a dream
she was walking through an airport
or somewhere in the in-between

Days to Come

who’s to say what is
and what is done?
who’s to understand
days to come?

i walk because i can’t stop,
for to stop would be to give up.
i watch the ocean get angry
and rise. i wonder.

what will become of the fisherman?
what will become of the fish?
raise your voice.
raise your fists.

we have the power of choice
to say what is
and what can be done.
we may die trying
but we must stand up
for days to come.

Will There Be No Normal Anymore?

fleeting moments reappear
drawing hearts’ ever nearer
to memories that could not withstand
modern chaos and its demands.

glimpses of times when safety held
strong against those who’d weld
swords of hatred and despair
for the revelation once declared.

peaceful is walking on oceans’ shore
yet even oceans are growing weary
with forecasts of dreary, dreary, dreary.
will there be no normal anymore?

when i was younger i felt content
though i was poor and unconfident
the world held moments of normalcy
for i still believed in something free.

truth was shaped by time and wind
as dark and light ascend and descend
in a certain flux of life and death
i bow my head and take a breath.

questioning what do you have in store
for a world that spins in constant sorrow
and worries if we will reach tomorrow.
will there be no normal anymore?