Aleppo, Syria

Omran Daqneesh
There is a little child in Aleppo born
Exploding waves of violent storm
Raging fires silently call harm
Yet the tiny child raises no alarm.
Ali Daqneesh
This is our child. Our daughter or our son
Our children have now become only one
Innocence bombed in a dawn of mourning
We heard the cries, refused the warnings.
Now we witness our barren crops dead
Help them! Somebody!
We are not what we said.

They are speaking

unlock

Tornadic bursts of clarity that light the path so long hidden

Lightning flashes of dervish danced love now bidden

The dialect is moving my feet forward, but

the roots had to reach ancestral proportions

to stretch closer to the stars without distortion.

Outreached hands grip, grasp, climb the galaxies

as Terraria celebrates the gateway rendered of fallacies

Although precarious in balance, it’s to advantage giv’n

that tornadic bursts of clarity pursue the debris forgiven

A visit from Atropos

The time of despair has lost its hold, refusing shaded respite

The grief of absence embalming heart, releasing darkness desperate

Returning the prayers of the wandering spirit, sealed breast and bone

Sending back the wilderness, refusing pleas to roam

The earth collects the debt it’s owed without a loss of haste

Slinking roots memorializing while the stolen life displaced

The plaque above the anchored gypsy reads:

“None are ever lost when their courage is found in deeds.”

Shadow Bones

wildflowers

I see you there in the shadows pretending you don’t see me.

I’m not there to hurt you, but to love you without question.

To you that may seem an impossible task because “Who’d love you?”

I’ll take out my soul light, holding it high in the air dissipating

The aura of unworthiness, the wall of hostile protection

The child that feels as lost as I have felt

I hear your cries in the dark as the nightmares scream

I’m not there to harm you, but to comfort your fears tenderly

That may feel unlikely considering the state you’re in

I’ll hold up my soul light, filled with love so the dark can’t have

Your rebirth into fruitfulness, your abundance like pomegranate

The child that screams with a voice now heard, like mine.

I feel your heart fighting as fiercely as a cornered animal

I’m not here to defeat you, but to support your victory

You believe you are broken, but I see the power of your will

I’ll offer my soul light as your shield as you fight for you

For your dreams, happiness, love, peace, your very spirit

That child that is frantic to stay safe knows me

I can’t offer redemption. I can’t even offer you a path.

What I can give you is my deepest support as you traverse

Acceptance of your divinity, your understanding of love

Your worthiness of compassion, your gift of kindness

I offer my soul light so you can find your own.

That child knows I am free, release the regrets

Bloom into the garden of unique flora and fauna.

Here, have some of my seeds.

Radical Gratitude

stained-glass-hearts-whimsy

What if we gave everything we received,

More notice than a checkout clerk gives

To your weekly grocery order that happens

To click, beep, clack, whir, and push its way

Birthing into the cocoon of recycled Christmas trees

Or reduced trees that once held dominion over Oregon.

What if we examined every aspect of our day

Giving more attention to the opportunities

Written on billboards, bumper stickers, back alleys,

Cardboard box fragments held by sunburned bits

Of human scattered at the exit ramps like accident debris.

But, there are no accidents. Life doesn’t live itself.

It must be championed, battled, chewed up,

Swallowed whole-heartedly with passion to fire it up

To the blazing hot necessity of burning away

The unnecessary baggage that we all carry.

Let us practice enthusiastic radical gratitude

For laughter

For joy

For peace

For balance

For opportunity to try again tomorrow

Radical gratitude for being able to witness this moment

This creation that we’ve all been gifted

That we all share with beating hearts filled with awe

Peppered with wonder, wondering why we’re here.

Love Lives

The place that is welcoming

is the home where love lives

Not only where love is,

but where it is cherished

nurtured, adored, revered,

but most of all,

given fertile soil to blossom

overly abundant blooms everywhere.

Curtis C.

I felt it before I heard or saw it.
A wave of hostility colored in anger
darkness creeping over hearts
while the warm sun kissed the peaceful.
“He’s white!” I hear her scream.
The grandson, after exchanging
the pungent presence of racism
committed to his violence
flailing at the seat-belted man
Releasing his hatred through his fists.
“STOP! STOP!” I yell at the assault
I bring the confused woman and her beau
water in plastic pink cups
The sun should be clouded over
with the bitterness of repulsion, but it isn’t.
 
The moving van waits
The ministry van drives away
The cops come, take names
forget it even happened.
 
My stomach is repulsed by the waves
still emanating from the gathered group
still aching from the pride fallen dead
in the gutter littered with foul words.