One Man's Karma
The dead man sits in the small room
Without sustenance or light,
There are no books or windows.
He cannot speak, yet even if he could,
There is no one with whom to do so.
The only things he has been given
Are his memories,
The only time he leaves this place
Is when his soul enters another's body
At the height of their fear and agony.
He leaves again at the moment of their peaceful death,
Returns back here to relive what suffering has just occurred.
So many instances through time;
A black man lynched in Alabama,
An old Vietnamese woman torched alive in a hut,
A blind, one legged, starving Kabul child stepping on a land mine,
A Detroit three-year-old gunned down by cross-fire
While playing in the front yard,
A small, terrified terrier
Being used for bait
In a dog fight,
A 911 plane passenger,
The karmic wheel spins for him,
Never slows, ticks off each offense,
Holds no grudge, just reflects what is due to him.
It's scary how relentless and unforgiving
This wheel is to this man.
Wherever there is evil,
He has no power over it.
It controls him
As he relives the horrors of others
Even beyond madness.
It's happening again,
He knows it's time,
The voice calls to him,“Adolph, come.”
- Linda Imbler 2016
Linda Imbler maintains that poetry, at its best, explains the head and heart of all life as science cannot. She is most recently the author of three poems included in Bunbury Magazine. Her poem “Atop the Hill” is forthcoming for the Fine Flu Journal. Other poems were published by deadsnakes.blogspot.com, behappyzone.com, bluepepper.blogspot.com, buckoffmag.com, and Broad River Review Literary Magazine. Her short stories have been published or are forthcoming in Fear of Monkeys and Danse Macabre. This writer, yoga practitioner, and acoustic guitar player resides in Wichita, Kansas.