In dreams we are known
in ways we can’t know ourselves.
Keep dreaming, my soul.
Tag Archives: fear
WHERE HAS LOVE GONE?
I do not know where love has gone.
Into hiding, I believe, free from harm.
So much anger clothed in love’s costume,
hate hidden from view so I am not consumed
by the true nature of what the costume hides;
all except the hands fisted by my side,
which velvet-suaded gloves still reveal
all the angry violence I could wield,
if I were not so terrified of the pain
I could visit upon others. I refrain.
I refuse to become just like those
who name-call with fake smiles and pose
under crosses, and above crowds,
saying the the ugly hate-filled truth out loud.
I desperately try to maintain my balance.
I believe compassion bears no allowance
to strike back when under attack.
But, turning the other cheek is a trait I truly lack.
Never take a punch and not fight back, I heard dad say.
But, never start the fight, if you can safely walk away.
Is this where we are now, afraid to put up the fists
when the attack is scheduled on government lists?
How long do we wait for the blows to fall?
How far before we are imprisoned inside the wall
of government ordnance and secret police?
How will we ever know any peace?
I do not know where love has gone.
I search and I search for however long
it will take me to find it and hold it tight
while I build strength for the coming fight.
STRAINED SILENCE
If you have nothing
good to say, then stay silent.
Strained silence today.
No “both sides” today.
As if some griefs matter more.
No “hate begets hate.”
If you have nothing
good to say, then stay silent.
Strained silence today.
Each life a sacred
moment expressed in earth-time,
born of the Divine.
If you have nothing
good to say, then stay silent.
Strained silence today.
Civility shattered.
Podcast by podcast each day.
What really matters?
If you have nothing
good to say, then stay silent.
Strained silence today.
We all grieve always,
ev’ry moment ev’ry day.
Loss all around us.
If you have nothing
good to say, then stay silent.
Strained silence today.
Anger lies beneath
the surface of grief today,
fearing so much more.
If you have nothing
good to say, then stay silent.
Strained silence today.
Love is stronger, heh?
Tell us that another day.
Love now keeps silent.
If you have nothing
good to say, then stay silent.
Strained silence today.
SHARED SHAME
Do you see the military
roaming city streets?
It is not my imagination
we are a threatened nation
about to lose our liberty.
The military which was once
our department of defense
against outside enemies
has turned its face within.
Now, it is the department of war
against those it would once defend.
We saw this coming.
We raised the alarm.
You answered with smarmy charm
that both sides do it.
What “it”? I ask.
I do not make war against you.
I build no fence to enclose you
in concentration camps
and jail cells with no chance of bond,
nor due process, nor rule of law.
You do all this and more.
You call me names to intimidate
and threaten my peace, my livelihood.
You take away my safety net, my health,
my happiness, my freedom to speak
and resist you. You call me your enemy
to justify your willingness
to let the constitution be tossed aside.
you no longer have integrity nor pride.
You can only feel shame if you have pride.
And you have no shame.
But, I…
I have enough pride for two;
enough to be ashamed of you.
THE PERFECT STORM
We are in the midst of a perfect storm.
Those who seek perfection, especially
a perfection to match themselves,
which they consider the norm,
relish the chaos which leads astray
a nation once dedicated to the proposition
that “all men are created equal
and endowed by their creator with the right
to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”
What a lovely concept in sunny weather,
on a clear blue day.
But, those seeing red over perceived imperfection
cannot tolerate those who refuse to let the imperfect
get in the way of the possible.
They prefer to cut programs and taxes,
to keep their money in their own pockets,
show their personal largesse to those deemed worthy.
If only, they could see their own imperfections clearly.
We would not be in this frightful storm.
The winds of fascism and authoritarianism stir wildly
every manner, moral tome, and rule of law, and norm.
The rain of terror by masked militia in our streets
is more costly than housing the homeless,
feeding the hungry, educating our young people
who live with expectations of defeat.
The young see their pursuit of happiness and their freedom
being washed away, with inequality laid at their feet.
I do not believe in perfection.
There are few perfect days.
Clouds are born by winds unseen
shadowing perfection and laying it aside
while violent storms brew.
I do not seek the impossible.
It is too costly and uncontrollable.
I know no policy nor program is perfect, as is no man.
Nothing makes us greater than to simply understand
we are all flawed human beings doing the best we can.
There can be no apology for silently marveling
and supporting these dark days.
The perfect see no reason to apologize
for the greater wisdom of their ways.
We are left to raise umbrellas
to protect as many as we can.
But, umbrellas are no match for perfect storms
created by our fellow man.
MEMORIES
Memories
The heart’s memory
Holds truth close for but a moment.
Then moves beyond truth
To a greater reality
To become something more,
Something that can last challenging and comforting,
cherished and caressed
Through boundless eternity.
The stories we tell ourselves
May have little basis in reality.
The heart too easily
Makes fools of us all.
Yet, we become enthralled
As our stories unfold,
Especially with those stories
We have never told.
Held close to the chest,
Such untold stories
Make us look, and feel, our best.
Their power keeps us strong
And able to face all the rest.
Filed under POETRY
REPLANTING DEMOCRACY
The Holland roots arrived today.
They still need to soak
before I can plant them
deep enough to grow.
What Leonora’s tears will bring
to the garden yet this Spring,
I do not yet know.
The soil is as dark as ever.
This is no reason to fear.
It does not mean it lacks
the ability to accept seeds that grow
into new ideas, new joys, new hopes
beyond our current capacity to know
what wonders in freedom’s garden
will seek light, grow upright and glow
amid the new plantings we start today,
across new paths and waterways,
across neighbors’ fields
on new roads and byways
joining the others we already know.
Together we continue to sow
new seeds of freedom, perhaps hybridized
alongside the naturalized and native plants
that make our yards, our streets,
our neighborhoods, our nation states,
our very planet come alive again
in even more fruitful and beautiful ways.
I plant with hope this day and every day.
LIGHT UP
I am made of stardust
lit by sunlight.
Like lilies of the field
I dig deep into earth
with my toes.
Like birds of the air
I soar on currents stirred
when heat meets cold.
I seek. I soar. I laugh out loud.
I raise my face to the sun.
I dance in moonlight.
My spirit takes flight.
I grow strong.
My beauty abounds.
As earth, my earth
turns round and round.
Time has no meaning
I have found
except to tether my hopes
that change comes around
when most desired,
bright with sounds
of laughter, and courage
unleashed and unbound.
Rejoice in the day,
the month and the year
but stay in the moment.
Have no fear.
Filed under POETRY
I AM CLEAR NOW
I no longer awaken thinking I had died during the night.
No more heavy weight in my chest dragging breath down.
No more lead-bottomed stomach trying to turn fear over.
No more panic tightening limbs positioned to run.
No more thinking thoughts unable to connect.
I am clear now.
Righteous anger replaces my new-found ability to hate.
Courage courses through veins relieved of pain.
Love for others suffering alongside me on common ground abounds.
A coalition of resistance finds strengthened legs and spine.
Brains calm and stay alert and plan how to go up and not down.
I am clear now.
I see the game to disarm and disarray all opposition.
I see the realization victory by evil forces always subsides.
I see the ability of good hearts to speed the failure along.
I see creativity lead ideas ahead, instead of repeating past retreats.
I am clear now.
Here.
Now.
Let me show you.
Together.
We can move mountains
of greed and fear and doubt.
I am clear now.
SWEET LITTLE OLD LADIES
This is the face of white supremacy,
the sweet little old lady
who lives down the street from me.
She praises the Walz-Harris and
Sherrod brown signs in my yard.
She gleefully says they make her happy.
I offer the extra signs I have to put in her yard.
She gracefully declines, “my family
would make it hard on me.
“So, your family bullies you,” I reply.
Taken aback I watch her smile fade.
“Yes,” she says,” I suppose that’s true.”
“It is just that Black people are so…”
her hands in the air waving away thought…
“They want to take over the country, but ought not.”
“Do you hear what some white people shout,
about taking over government to have their way?
Do you fear them taking over the country?” I say.
A look of confusion crosses her face.
I ask if she thinks every white or Black person
is the same, and if blanket descriptions are really O.K.
This sweet little face now looks away.
Then turns with a frown and admits it’s unfair.
I have family who are MAGA, too, I explain.
If they do not like my signs I simply reply
that they should put out their own signs
and take responsibility for their incivility.
She tells me she is really afraid,
for once glad to be old with death on its way.
I remind her of all dangers she has faced.
I smile and encourage her to take her place
among our past heroes who gave voice to renew
the promise of America for me and for you.
I promise her she is stronger than even she knows,
that together we are strong enough to fight any foe.
I remind her everyone fears what the future portends
She nods and she smiles but her eyes tell a different story
She yearns for the time when being white
meant she could claim control and full glory.
I am an old white lady, but have never been sweet.
Being real is neither pretty nor neat.
I handle truth in its complexity,
dirtying my hands and feet
placing signs in my yard,
refusing to give in to hate and racism.
Ugly truth-teller is my only “ism”.
Silence is complicity.
Fear and hate do not deserve pity.
