Other Poems

by Ken Sehested

If justice, and only justice, is
            all we ask, none will
                        escape the hangman’s
                                    ugly work.

Some are less culpable, of course, no doubt, some did more, yes, some less righteous than me and mine, some more, some so much more, mucho mas more are worse than others and, in particular, worse than me, Read more ›

by Ken Sehested
Written in 2014 to a friend in Cuba on a dark and stormy night

I am up late, glued to
the weather channel, tracking
Irene’s ruinous wake. Apparently
the storm is going north of you.
My furrowed face relaxes. Read more ›

by Ken Sehested

          Have mercy upon us, O Lord.
          Our soul has had more than its fill
          of the scorn of those who are at ease,
          of the contempt of the proud.
          —Psalm 123:3-4 Read more ›

Ken Sehested

You are encouraged to listen to Roberta Flack and
Donny Hathaway’s rendition of “Come, Ye
Disconsolate”  before, during or after you read.

We are often suspicious of words of comfort, and
for good reason: such sentiments too often coax us
Read more ›

by Ken Sehested

We are indeed strangers; but not foreigners.

This “world” is not our home; but this earth is.

We are not drifters: directionless, detached, disaffected, Read more ›