Tag Archives: faith

MORNING DOVE

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Morning brings us mindless enterprise

until Brain sorts itself sorts itself out

and finds a side to lean on as

rational thoughts begin to unsteadily rise,

as do we, from beds draped in blankets

and dreams, soon lost in shallow mists.

uncertain what this new day will comprise.

We only awaken when the world makes sense again

and each moment of each hour of this day stops

being a devastatingly horrible October surprise.

Which may explain why so many refuse to awaken,

fearful of what the day may bring to their side.

Living in the dawn of denial and refusing to think

keeps nightmares hidden behind false pride.

Which may explain why so many fear being woke,

and despise those awake, yet steadier, than they are.

It is easier for some to remain in the dark ages,

unable to face each new day with hopeful anticipation.

The unstable on their feet, pushed around in misdirection,

bombarded steadily by false presentation on their way

to the kitchen from the bedroom to prepare for work,

which may or may not be securely theirs if AI has a say.

In darkness, they color outside the lines of common sense,

unable, and scarily unwilling, to follow a rational conversation;

or simply refuse to move an inch, holding on to the fence.

We all need a simple cup of coffee, for satisfaction.

We all need a moment, or two, of silent reflection.

We all need to accept our common imperfection.

We all need a personal course correction.

We all need to reassemble our sleepy thoughts

and start behaving as we ought.

We are stronger than we know.

We can stand on our own.

we can let fear go back to sleep

as we awaken on balanced feet

facing each new day.

That is no mean feat.

It was never meant to be.

We were made from and for love.

We are the morning, not the mourning, dove.

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LIFT HIGH YOUR LAMP

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The Mother of Exiles lifts her lamp high above the shore.

Showing the world the open, golden door

which does not close on the rich, nor on the poor.

Greatness lies just beyond it where

no storied pomp, nor propaganda can close a door

where freedom reigns instead of princes and kings;

despite the mean-spirited ads, rallies, rants and roar.

The huddles masses of those who came before

yearning to be free are just like you and me.

Together, we immigrants to a foreign shore

watch not the dismantling of the door,

as we watched the destruction of the East Wing;

but, the boards of hate and fear nailing it shut

wondering what an AI fascist future may bring.

Meanwhile, MAGA boasts and laughs and struts.

All that now remains is a frame and lintel

on which voters hopes patiently hang.

And, those seeking safety on American shores

are hunted and locked up by those who fear and hate,

whose violence has been unleashed

as it has been many times before.

A nation built using violence to seize its manifest destiny

none-too-soon learned to use restraint;

amended a constitution, and regulated greed and hate.

A new door must be built, open to allow hope to flourish

and America’s soul renewed by love for all,

that we may see its faith is restored.

Vote to end America’s soul-less rage.

Vote to turn America’s fearfully hate-written page.

Vote our constitution and rule of law to be restored.

Vote to lift your own lamp above every closed door.

Lift the lamp of freedom over America forevermore.

Hiding your light under the barrel and staying silent

has never worked before.

GO VOTE!

Then light the space around you

until the nightmares are put at an end;

and America is, once again, on the mend.

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TO BE OR NOT TO BE

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TO BE OR NOT TO BE

The dark of night yet lingers and hides horrors from our sight,

as surely as using his poisoned pen our would-be king

claims undeserved, and hitherto unknown, power and might.

Disguised as feeble-minded and deranged in his fake rage,

surrounded by sycophants helping him turn every page,

he orders and re-orders freedom as his serpent

sibilant breath hisses and shouts across a stage,

revealing his sins and our own, as old as this nation.

Our fears and incoherent anxiety revealed with every breath,

as old as earth’s uncertain and unknowable creation.

Our American Garden of Eden has been turned into hell

for people of color and women, immigrants and refugees

who come with promise and work hard to make true

the promise that over 250 years determinedly grew,

and journalists pledged to tell us truth that is balanced and fair.

Even a live view of a firing squad of a criminal in a wheelchair

does not diminish the would-be kings charm

like a snake sung into action by Congressional inaction

which daily increases a litany of new harm

while they refuse to impeach and remove him 

and his co-horts who claim he is only joking, 

and ask us to believe he is such fun,

as he destroys the Bill of Rights, one by one;

and ignores every court order to cease and desist

his personal form of corruption and grift.

The rule of law, its lawyers and judges live in fear

as he unleashes his supporters to threaten and sneer.

Americans, it seems, find some ability to be tolerant,

though not as we hoped, to keep us solvent.

Americans accept racist and sexist firings

to make white supremacy in charge, and re-wiring.

Americans accept attacks on the Capitol and its defenders,

and pardons for criminals whose attacks never ended.

Americans can accept attacks on electoral process

and threats of vote seizures meant to intimidate

and stop voters who cannot wait to participate

in tossing the bums out with freedoms’ voting clout.

Americans can accept endless war financed by the poor

while the richer get rich making deals with enemies galore.

But, hands in our pockets, is a step too far for us.

You cannot steal our money like you steal our Jesus,

to convince us neither He, nor we, are who we once were.

Money has become our one, true god;

and whiteness, and gas prices, our only guiding star.

Vote evil out of this garden of Eden,

the serpent and all who will not act against him,

who now pretend they are on our side with false pride;

while cutting trees into crosses and debasing the wood.

The promise of America  requires you vote Blue

to keep this nation free, progressing, and claiming what is true.

Join NO KINGS rally and marches near you on October 17.

Make a plan and VOTE on or before November 3.

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AMERICAN RENAISSANCE

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The dark ages were not dark everywhere.

Light shown to the East, the South, and the West

while Europe cloaked itself in dark days;

as The United States of America does now.

Even camera crews have turned off light and sound.

And evil men and women try to rebound

by creating their own clown-faced muse

with his crypto, coins, twitter, and TV news.

These wanna-be strong-men turn away from the Light of Truth

forsake the Bill of Rights’ light once so very bright

with promise by all, for all, and to do all things right.

We watch all systems fail across airports,

roads, water plants, farm fields, schools and hospitals

and death becomes unleashed by ICE men

playing false as con-men overrule the Rule of Law.

Their appointed judges enact The Rule of Flaw

This may be America’s final straw;

judges sitting in dark court rooms

unable to see what facts there be

so precedence can be overruled

and lights kept turned off, but not for all.

January 6 criminals, rapists, pedophiles, and fraudsters are free

to roam in darkness so deep we cannot see

that none of us is allowed to remain free.

None of us are safe from deportation

to an unknown country, or to our own private hell

here in our own homes, on our own streets,

within our universities and our own communities.

The lights seem to be growing dim

as Dark Ages descend again.

Artists can paint, sculpt and write in the dark.

They see more clearly what is, and imagine what can be.

Their imagery is lightened within dreams and memory.

A new Renaissance can overcome such darkness.

It did so once. It can, again.

There should be no return to the old days, but a rebirth

of those ideals sought enacted by people of Earth,

when our constitution, its amendments and Judicial Act

were put in placed to support a Bill of Rights

to overcome dark night and shine a brilliant Light

across an entire world. Peasant freedom unfurled. 

The work of artists is to bring forth light and right;

a Renaissance of love and peace, respect for all;

and, the courage to make things right.

Art and artists’ dreams dispel, like a liars’ tell,

 shining light in the depths of these dark nights.

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IN THE RING

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Simply waiting will not do at all.

When did simply waiting

accomplish anything at all?

Yogis pose in silent waiting,

fingers touching in connection.

While we who simply wait

have no connection at all,

and lose ourselves 

in self-destruction when we fall

within the ring where the fight is set

by the one percent and big tech bros

placing their weight and cash

heavily upon our backs

until the fight is so unfair

we realize we have not a prayer.

Church pews sit empty.

The fight is on every screen.

We fail to realize we are in the ring.

We cannot simply watch the fight.

Simply waiting cannot make all right.

We will go down with the count

toppled by high winds, fire, and flood.

The severe cold will freeze life’s blood.

Recognize we are in the fight.

We have always been in, to our chagrin,

fighting for our very lives;

while being entertained to silence

and static acceptance of violence.

Simply waiting did not stop slavery,

Jim Crow, voter suppression, child abuse,

sexual harassment and women’s subjugation.

This has always been the fight of our nation.

This is not a new fight we watch as battles

in the ring to see which latest victim falls.

We cannot simply watch from the sidelines

because it is us inside the ring.

It is we who shall fall.

We the people shall participate.

We the people shall win or lose.

Do not sit in your corner. 

Don’t throw in the towel.

Get up and fight. It is not too late.

Then get to the polls and vote to win.

All bets are on you. Gloves at the ready, and grin!

Then prepare for the backlash, 

one worse than the one before.

Get in the fight again.Knock your opponent to the floor

with such a strong vote he cannot rise.

Put him down for the count forevermore.

Then raise your gloves high and stand tall.

Simply waiting will not do at all.

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HOLY HOURS

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Hours are not carried by Time.

Hours carry Time, and define

the meaning of each minute

night and day.

In wakefulness or sleep

Hours are mine.

Holy Hour is the time I pray

before the sacred Host of Immortality,

Grace enters with great mystery.

Indecent Hours get in the way of wakefulness

with sleepless nights, and dreams, in play.

Make every minute count, wise women say.

Hours mount their weight day by day.

Their heaviness brings down clocks, yet chimes

that days left are too few; I shall soon be out of time.

Make haste to use each Hour with a smile.

the time we have left used well makes life worthwhile.

Hours do not carry us into unfilled Time to waste.

We carry Hours like a weight to remind us to make haste.

Hours are not carried by Time.

We carry Hours. We carry Time.

Every minute of every Hour is mine.

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CONFIRMATION SLAP

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There was one day each year our Catholic parish could expect the Bishop to visit. Every year the children in the fourth grade, age 10 or so, made their Confirmation of Faith. We studied the tenets of our faith so we would understand more fully what it would mean to be confirmed. This was critical because  the one thing that sank in was the idea that we would not only promise to live our faith, fully and with integrity; we would pledge to be willing to die for our faith, as many of the Catholic saints had done over the centuries. In fact, we chose a name for ourselves of a saint who inspired us to live our faith as fully as they. I chose Bernadette, a young girl unable to be shaken from her spiritual experiences, despite opposition even from church leaders. She was open to the unexpected, unexplainable mysteries of her faith; courageous and persistent, resilient and humble. She could face down any opposition to live her faith experience.

We had learned through study and life experience that others opposed our beliefs, and especially, our assumed authority to represent Jesus Christ’s teaching . We saw our priests, and even ourselves, as part of the line of succession from Peter the Apostle. A lot of wrongdoing and audacity occurred in between Peter’s time and mine. We were taught to acknowledge errors, correct them and move on. A daily examination of conscience and frequent confession kept us on track.

As a very short child, I led the procession into church. The Bishop asked us a few questions ascertaining that we understood what we were about to promise. I was the first to be confirmed, kneeling at the altar rail, shaking like a leaf, praying for courage. The Bishop spoke the words reminding me that my faith required a willingness to die for Christ. I responded that I would. The Bishop then struck my cheek with a blow so hard those in the back pews could hear the slap, my head snapping to the side. The Bishop looked horrified. I could feel the sting of his hand. I was reminded alright! 

After the service ended, we processed from our pews to the rear of the church, the Bishop and altar servers before us. The Bishop waited for me at the door and joined my parents and family as we stood on the church steps. His handprint was still visible on my cheek. He humbly apologized to me and to my parents. Since I was the first child he had underestimated the strength of his blow, and was mortified. I had never expected to see a mortified bishop. It made my heart open to him as human being, no longer an authority figure. Those moments of my confirmation remain with me, 67 years later, as if they happened yesterday. Over the years I had need of the lessons learned that day.

I learned that faith is not a mind-game, nor a mere consideration. It is a calling to act with integrity, love and compassion. It requires the willingness to suffer for others; to learn them, see them, hear them even when I had to “suffer through” them. I suffered through those I did not like nor respect, as well as those I respected and loved. I learned that those in authority held no power over me unless I gave it to them. I could have withheld respect and forgiveness to a bishop who hit me so hard it hurt. I chose to forgive him and accept his unintended harm. However, I never shirk from showing those in authority the harm they do. It is probably one reason I became a lawyer. I experienced justice that day. Too many in our America do not. It is those we must be willing to die for. Our faith requires it.

I listened to two Catholics, Senator Bernie Moreno from my state of Ohio and Vice-President J.D. Vance defend and protect the President Trump’s unlawful war, threats of genocide, and destructive blasphemy the past few days. They were confirmed. Do they not recall their vow to defend and protect our faith and our church as they attack our Pope? Do they not understand integrity and morality? What did they promise as they affirmed their Catholicism when confirmed? I am not truly surprised because they also seem to have forgotten their vow to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States and Ohio, and the laws of both when they sworn into office as senators and then, Vance, as Vice-President. 

These are not men of conviction willing to suffer for their faith. They are not humble. They lack integrity. They lie. They attack when they should defend… not just the Pope but human beings in Gaza, Iran, Minneapolis, and every city and hamlet in America. They attack instead of defend our people of color, LGBQT and transgender citizens, our women and children, our elderly and disabled, our working poor, our refugees and immigrants. They would suppress votes of students, women, the working poor, the elderly and disabled and brazenly support the provisions in the SAVE act suppressing our votes. All the while they pretend to protect us and our vote. They stay silent while our military is used to perform war crimes, and while our country’s leaders threaten to annihilate others in violation of the Geneva Convention and human rights.

The attack on a Catholic Pope is just part of the plan to replace loving faith and care for others preached by Jesus Christ on his Sermon on the Mount with power and control over others fed by greed and arrogance. It was easy to abuse the weakest among us. Now, they openly abuse a powerful church leader preaching Jesus Christ’s teachings. Of course, Trump posted an AI construction of himself as Jesus Christ. Of course Vance and Moreno, and other republicans think it is meaningless, a joke.  The explanation is as great a lie. It has meaning. It is meant to promote abuse and control at the expense of others. These men were not slapped hard enough when they were confirmed as Catholics. They are not willing to suffer any political nor financial loss to help others. As a Catholic, I hold them accountable and ask them to recall their vows; to their church and to the American people.

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LIVE FOR TODAY

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Eternity is 

a slippery slope upon

which to place one’s hope.

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MORNING COMES

Tomorrow will turn into today; 2025 to 2026. We will still resist negativity and embrace one another as we seek to create a more American America, fully embracing, perhaps for the first time, our Constitution and Bill of Rights. It will be more difficult than ever. But, I am hopeful it can be done because of my faith in each of you.

I am thankful to all who read by poetry, political essays and family stories. You cover the globe. Your hands reach across oceans. Your hearts embrace human kindness. Your minds seek truth. Your souls seek justice. You give me the blessing of your attention to address the problems we face. Somehow, united across the globe, such intention to do good and treat one another with mutual respect, will work miracles. We shall overcome the darkness as we enlighten each other’s lives. You enlighten mine. I thank you, dear readers. Happy New Year! A new morning comes.

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PURE OF HEART

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com St. Anne with her young daughter, Mary; The grandmother and mother of Jesus of Nazareth.

On  this Holy Day

no obligation takes part

in the love and respect I feel for you,

dearest Mary, Queen of Hearts.

No need for men to declare 

you are woman beyond compare.

Nor need to justify your place

with convoluted tales of grace.

You bore the heavy pregnancy gait

and the seemingly endless 9 months wait,

a grueling trek by foot and donkey

away from safety and into mystery.

You sheltered in the meanest space

and kept up with Joseph’s heartier pace

as women are so often wont to do

for men and children in need of you.

You entertained guests who came to view

the wonder of Light renewed by you.

When you likely most needed rest

you gave your all to all your guests.

And then you fled as Joseph’s dream

must have made you want to scream.

All to keep your loved ones safe and sound.

Your strength and love are so profound.

And still you give to all of us here now

your grace and love and keep your vow

made through Angel Gabriel in ages past;

a promise that to this day still lasts.

“Behold,I am the handmaiden of the Lord;

Let it be done to me according to your word.”

Such a pure heart needs no more explanation.

The Light always carried within you is our salvation.

A feast day for an Immaculate Conception

sounds like a useful mansplain deception.

I overlook my useless eye-rolling emotion

and give you, dear Mary, my full devotion.

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