Eternally


Eternally

We don’t remember
our other soul lives spent here,
alien Earth plane.

Swaths of sand smooth and
soften hard edges of lost
civilizations.

We visit, then with
infinite impermanence,
return to dust too.


Eternally is an excerpt from Soul Journey: Poetry for Our Times

Susan L Hart © 2026

Wishful


Wishful

My heart aches for them,
humanity’s freedom call
a whisper away.

But wishing will not
make it so; a decision
is required now.

Humanity’s mind
captured by a thought form
of a world of slaves.

Do they not realize
it’s simply a decision?
When will they wake up?

Leaving me wishful
that deceit will be unmasked,
so it can all change.


Wishful © Susan L Hart 2026

Stone’s Throw Away


Stone’s Throw Away

Our love was
so strong that
we were just
a stone’s throw
from reconciliation,

but the stones
already slung had
so badly broken
the glass house
of our trust that

the shards seeded
a stone wall over
which no stone
could ever be
thrown again.

We were so close,
and yet so far.


I wrote this poem in 2023 for humanity, inspired by the proverb “People who live in glass houses should not throw stones”.

© Susan L Hart 2026

Fabrications


Fabrications

Society used to
be built on
the character of
the people who
wove the fabric.

Integrity,
Honesty,
Hard Work,
Relationships,
and Vision.

These were the
vital strands
woven into the
warp and weft of
our world.

Now society is
fabricated on
voices in thin air,
virtual words with
empty promises.

We want that
world back,
a place where
strong character’s
substance reigns.

But wanting and
deciding are
two unlike things,
one is a wish,
the other intent.

Nothing comes
for free, and
everything worth
anything is still
worth the work.


Fabrications, © Susan L Hart, excerpted from Humanity’s Lament: Poetry for Our Times

The Trees Weep


The Trees Weep

The willow weeps,
the pine trees moan,
all Nature’s feeling it,
deep to the bone.

Humans out of sync,
not hearing their hearts,
the soul of the Earth’s
being torn apart.

“Technology’s call
mesmerized them all,
and why can’t they see,
their hate is a wall?”

The mountains watch,
their strength eons old,
the oceans too have
seen centuries unfold.

They will endure, but
will humans be here?
“It seems they don’t care,
they don’t hold us dear.”

The eleventh hour
draws swiftly nigh,
trees watch us, crying,
will this be goodbye?


The Trees Weep © Susan L Hart, excerpted from Humanity’s Lament: Poetry for Our Times