Word #For Paris

It is not through anger, by sending drones or bombs, or by any retaliation that ISIL will be defeated. It is by bringing us together; in grief and the understanding that each life is precious and all lives are equally so.

It is in the end our love for each other that will bring us together united in determination to remove those, so broken that they cannot or will not love, from the capacity to inflict harm on our communities.

Terrorism will not end in terror but in light, ironically one of the forces that brings us most powerfully together In the understanding that all cultural differences are in the and small and all we hold in common; our lives, our loves, our children, and our world, that is the truth of our lives.

Poetry

Poetry is a road
for the lost to follow,

a song for lovers speech,
for greetings and partings,

a language to express
our wonder and awe

a prayer to address divinity
a hymn to express gratitude

And the sound of a human voice
blessed with understanding

A gift that evokes joy beyond words.

Starshine in a tumbledown heart

I have done a lot with my two poetry blogs. Most of it has been poetry so today I offer a small blog entry.  The title was a bit of a whim but it is meant to  indicate  that I have found peace.

It’s a timeless space where I live my days, while the light changes color on the windowpane

When I want to I can tell by the color of light, the leaves on the trees, corn height, in which flowers are blooming or not; what season it is.

Inside In fall and winter I know the temperature by the tempo of the boiler’s thrum and the feeling that the walls radiate into the room.

The passage of time is a different thing

It doesn’t register most of the time unless marked by a sore muscle, a sense that it’s been too long since I ate, the absence of light, or a phone message the stands out from the spam that lies all around it.

The pile of month’s new bills grows into fullness, rising, white against the dark finish of the table, like the full moon a mahogany sky.

Fortunate as I am, I am happy except for the nagging grief that accompanies my awareness of dying trees, extinct species, and growing indifference to the public welfare by those who run the country.

Contrary to appearances

It’s ironic that the word pansy has been used, consistently throughout my life, to indicate weakness. 

 Over the last several weeks I have noticed that the many in my garden have been pounded flat by intense rain many times yet, given a single day of sun, they are always upright and beautiful again.

  

how the word pansy has been usedas a negative term indicating weakness.

. Over the last several weeks I have noticed that the many in my garden have been pounded flat by intense rain many times, yet given a single day of sun they are always upright and beautiful again.

Haiku

  

Photo – microscopy-uk.uk

Beauty in silence –

like buds becoming flowers

Being becoming

Mitakuye Oyasin

Luther Standing Bear – Oglala Sioux chief

Spring snow like a pause
Forests echo with anguish
Beyond the silence
A world filled with emptiness
Mitakuye Oyasin

Shades of anonymity

  

Shades of anonymity

A young black man stops on the sidewalk,

reaching into the breast pocket of his winter jacket

he looks up to see officers approaching.

A group of men gathers, 

clothing and  location attest  to their character.

Together, they change the fates of unborn children,

deny medical care to those who elected them, 

Withhold  income from the aged.

veterans are seen as an expense to be trimmed, limited and minimized.

Secrets once whispered are encoded and algorithms,

chart sharp spikes and Long slopes,

that measure millions in micro-seconds.

Silently calculating the weeks profit a car passes unnoticed,

two officers and the young man now bruised for allowing himself to respond to the provocation of inequity.

Strangely, all are invisible to so many who have never, … seen it all before.

  weeks profit a car passes unnoticed,

two officers and the young man now bruised for allowing himself to respond to the provocation of inequity.

Strangely, all are invisible to so many who have never, … seen it all before.

Tanka – Spring

The first days of spring

warmth spends like a lovers touch.

The slightest touch thrills,

like the crocus at my feet,

overcoming small shivers.

Bard – reposted from 8/2013

The path I tread Is marked in growing light,

illuminating all before my eyes,

revealing every heart that I may see,

It gifts me words of light to set them free.

 

The touch of light illuminates my way,

across the hours unafraid and sure,

In vision joined with ancient alchemy,

awake my soul creates the truth I see.

 

The blessed sight, of light too pure to know,

a moments touch can bring a lifetimes rest,

A joy so pure to know, this precious sight,

I take the path and walk in healing blessed.

 

My sight is touched, alight each blade and leaf,

times glowing ribbon flows with passing days,

till I sated will rest beyond this walk,

leaving my light to light another’s way.

Full

Some days thoughts bloom in my mind, almost too many to number,

like the alpine flowers bursting from the cloudy dampened moss on the mountainside. 

these are wondrous days, often, before I know what has happened, the day is ending and I’m still excitedly following them upward,

Wild and untouched, these are

gifts to be scented and seen,

 tho robust, these have no tolerance for captivity.

That’s when faith becomes important,

when I can lay down and welcome the nights quiet sleep,

trusting that I will not awaken blind to the beauty around me.

Perhaps my world has ended enough times that I have learned,

to clear away the debris and keep the earth well, until it blooms again.