GARDEN OF DEMOCRACY

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Seeds have pointed ends

and sharp edges

browned and dried at rest.

Planted by strong winds

into dark soil opened

by seeds’ thin crest.

Growth and change

know no easy kindness;

strive in fierce battles to persist.

Await mere chance to emerge in sunshine

through storms and rain

from under soil’s harsh duress.

Noblesse oblige is well and good.

It fertilizes earth to grow the seed.

But it is seed which has stood

the test of winter’s snow

to make a healthy garden grow.

Strong agents of change protect

the tender plants we sow.

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HAVE A GOOD FLIGHT

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How do you pin down a dream?

Or, bind a mind so tight

all hope takes flight?

I do not see why you would;

even if you could.

When hopes and dreams are lost

we all pay a terrible cost.

No gated house, no security alarm

protects every place of possible harm.

The threats and fears you plant

grow into weeds that choke

the life out of every community,

disrupt any sense of unity

to hold a country together

to fight its true enemy.

Too late we discover the truth.

We finally remember and see 

the enemy we cry as uncouth

is actually you and me.

So, let us set every dream free,

embrace hope and reach for the stars.

Let us remember for once and for all,

all that we could be, and who we really are.

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HAPPY EASTER, EARTH

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Easter’s rise shines with light

and we delight

that Earth’s demise

seems far away,

if only for today.

Resurrection reminds us

that Earth’s clean breath

may be renewed

and rise again, too, with the sun 

as the Son breathes life

into each of us to begin anew.

To be Creation

within and without.

To enjoin all nations

as Saviors of all life.

To set aside strife

and come down from our cross.

To roll away stones heavy with fear.

To rise up after such passion.

To embrace Life and one another.

To embrace each as sister and brother.

To know we are safe in Earth’s embrace

of life among the stars.

To shine. To shine. To shine.

To make His love yours and mine.

Happy Easter !

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HOLY SATURDAY

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Holy Saturday is here.

The quietest day of the year.

The feel of the tomb presses near.

All whom we treasure most dear

tremble in solemn fear,

waiting uncertain, near tears,

for all to be made clear.

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PASSING PRIVILEGE

Dribble, dribble, pass, shoot.

Passing the ball is an art, laying up the shot

in, on and off the court

of public opinion and more.

No matter the cost just take the shot and score.

Passing dark skin is forbidden,

discouraged and shamefully hidden.

White privilege need not even ask

to take an unearned pass,

without question and no need to even ask.

The white right to pass is supreme

in the legislature of Tennessee.

Black men readily removed without compunction

by white men bent on their colleagues’ destruction.

Black men dared to act as their equal

in their advocacy on behalf of the people.

White legislators creating a sequel

to enslavement, Jim Crow and voter suppression.

They saw no need for quiet discretion.

They simply gave the white woman a pass,

one for which she did not ask.

Their message was clear.

Republicans cheer,

“This is how we show Black men their place.”

Confident supremacy with no sense of disgrace.

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HAIKU /CLIMATE CHANGE

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Winds so fierce even

clouds avoid the twists and turns

of a world destroyed.

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ILL WORDS

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Some words are too heavy to write.

Their weight bears too much pain

To stay alive on the page,

nor offer any light.

Thus, the poet keeps them 

out of sight.

To ink such words upon a page

might fill a fragile world

with hopeless and destructive rage.

Such is the darkened fate

of the chronically ill forced to hide,

all energy drained and waiting

for life to open wide,

and poetry find its way again

in a new and open light.

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THERE ARE NO WORDS

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There are no words.

Not even thoughts nor prayers

can escape beyond the grief.

Three nine year old Nashville children

could not hold the line

we asked and trained them to do.

The line has grown and stretched

and wrapped itself around

Columbine, Margory Stoneman Douglas,

Uvalde, Sandy Hook, Amish school, 

Pulse, Binghampton, Carthage nursing home,

University of Texas tower, University of Virginia,

Virginia Tech, Northern Illinois University

Washington Navy Yard, Fort Hood one and two,

San Bernardino, Edmund Post Office,

San Ysidro Mc Donald’s, LA dance studio,

El Paso and Virginia Walmarts, Planned Parenthood,

Birmingham church potluck, Living Church of God,

Sacramento and Texas First Baptist Church,

Tree of Life synagogue, Sikh Temple, 

Buffalo and Boulder supermarkets, IHOP

Molson Coors and Hartford Beer, 

Fed X, UPS, Xerox, Lockheed Martin.

The list goes on and on stretching ever longer

the lines we should never cross

until lines wrap our feet and ankles

no longer able to march in the streets.

Until lines wrap our hands and fists

no longer able to wrap them around a pen to write new law,

nor lift them in the air with promise to end what we saw.

Until lines wrap around around our heads and stuff our mouths

no longer able to speak out loud, only muffled groans of despair.

There are no words.

There are no words.

There are no words.

But, words have never been enough.

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HAIKU

TIME

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A single moment

is all. And time is only

a way to forget.

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DEEP FREEZE

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After the cheeping rattle of ice chips beat against the window

and replaced the quiet drift of falling snowflakes

silence descended and coated the ground.

Now there is no sound, 

as if Earth, herself, is holding her breath.

The freeze is so profound that even the tires on cars

silently whirl round and around and around,

trying to grip as the cars slide and slip,

like ideas trying not to collide,

unable to take purchase of a single thought;

awakened from silent dreams fraught

with swallowed screams and naught

to do with this newly frozen world.

New snowflakes, smaller and tighter now twirl

hidden by silent vows made on quiet streets

to freeze out life and cover the Other,

refusing to see them as sister and brother.

The only remarks that life remains for sure

are three breaths controlled and held in check:

the warmth of hot air blown from furnace grates,

the kettle of water heated to steep tea,

and the certainty that I am still me.

Breathe in and breathe out, and never doubt

that frozen days come silently to give us time

to redesign and renew Earth,

and a new birth 

of a new humanity.

Warming brings the thaw of words hidden 

by the freeze of words now bidden

to silence by those who fear trust hidden by design.

I find the hidden poetry in this silent freeze.

I make those hidden words mine.

I wake with you and your warm spirit to shout

across the deep freeze all about.

Sound carries farther on cold air.

So shout and sing and show you care

in this heavily silent deep freeze.

Never let silence shout you out.

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