Tag Archives: hope

Campaign Music

No single note is discordant.

No single vote voiced is wrong.

How the songwriter

puts the notes together

determines the song.

Our brains fine-tune our ears

to listen for the meaning

of words carried on the notes.

Some songs lift our spirits

to reach a higher cause.

Some songs depress our spirits

and make our hearts pause

with the fear of the other

we hated all along.

Some songs get us on our feet

to dance together, smile and sing.

Some songs hold us in our seats

ready to shout out in defeat.

The songs which truly make us strong

Are those we can rely upon

to offer hope, and love, and peace.

How the notes are brought together means everything.

The music that is America

is hard to sing if notes

are not treasured,

So many notes over so many years

from so many places refugees fled in fear

of famine, crime and even war.

We have sung the song of safety and of freedom,

welcoming all to our shore.

Songs that open minds and hearts

are the best place to start

a journey to a better future;

unlike the songs meant to keep us apart.

So many discordant notes

strung together create chaos,

not a strong and lovely song.

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GRIEF

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

Everyone grieves in their own way, so they say.

But, steadfast Grief remains the same.

Lips once tilted in joy, Grief holds tight with the strain

of holding back anger and keeping screams at bay.

Grief tightens the brow and hardens the eye

to hold back the tears which threaten to slide

tearing apart all that we hold deep inside.

Cheeks held too tight crease 

and create runnels where tears may glide.

Grief clutches jaws held fearfully tight.

Once tears escape, will our held-back sobs fight

with a pulse so strong they can never be stopped?

Like a street thug, Grief pounds us into submission

and never takes time to ask our permission.

It pushes us down with pummels fierce and powerful.

Grief uses its bruising punches to keep us sorrowful.

We lie on hard pavements praying for the end to our suffering.

We feel we are losing our grip on reality.

We clutch at old truths, begging help to appear and lessen our sorrow.

Even Grief grows tired over time and lessens its blows.

Help comes when we unclench jaws and scream,  

and shout, and let our tears and fears outwardly flow.

Soften the eyes. Relax the brow. Let the tears flow. 

Tears wash away sorrow that new faith can be planted

in every tomorrow, with new ways to love

and new paths to follow.

Signs of grief always remain in new lines

that furrow about our lips, across the edge of our eyes,

and on necks which will, henceforth, our heads tip

slightly down, with greater humility, a bit.

Over time bruises heal, muscles grow stronger.

We learn we can handle the tough thugs who sit

on the sidelines, hidden in shadow.

We learn love again, embracing those who came to help.

We learn faith again, embracing those who prayed by our side.

We learn hope again, embracing those who helped us to our feet.

We stand again on loving, faith-filled, hopeful feet;

and, find a new path where joy and laughter can leads us.

We see our new selves in the eyes of those we pass.

We are stronger and last longer than Grief ever could.

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SNOW!

We often think that Spring brings our first hopes

of a new life, a new world, a new cause to celebrate.

We need not wait for Spring to hope.

Eight inches of snow fell silently and cloaked

the surfaces of note that set our scene,

a scene fearfully bleak which clouds all thoughts

of a fearless life, and hides the fear which lies below

our greatest hopes, limited by what, we do not know.

We fear the worst after watching the news

meant to keep us watching, our nerves hanging on every word.

Snow!

Snow changes our landscape in a moment.

The deeper the snow, the greater the wind, 

the more we see of all the possibilities 

to change the world we ache to know.

All darkness and decay disappears by end of day.

White whorls of snow cover every branch of every tree,

and shrub and shed. No tracks yet made by others 

who share this place with me.

The sun rises in  a fiercely blue sky and tracks appear

upon the new world of white light strewn across its face.

Snow!

Snow allows us to dream we can make all clean.

Our purity glows within each crystal caught by sunlight,

raising our spirits, capturing our innocence.

We believe we can change, too. All is right in a world draped in white.

My first hope does not wait for Spring.

It comes alive at the sight of the first big snow.

Snow reminds me that landscapes can change swiftly,

purely, beautifully aglow. Even war’s wounded landscapes

appear at peace when covered in snow.

Impoverished neighborhoods where crime rules breathe softly covered in snow.

Snow!

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SUNRISE

Photo by Louise Annarino

The sky alights as do I.

Sun fills the fibers from head to toe.

Sun awakens so I must go.

I must go follow the sun it seems

or languish within startling dreams.

I prefer reality to map my way out of night.

I prefer a mind and heart filled with light.

Shadows always fall behind me.

Darkness  no longer blinds me

though I am on unfamiliar paths

and the light will not last.

For a few hours, at least, 

I progress past the breach

where it would be easy to fall

onto hopes covered by a pall.

Light guides my way 

for another day.

It no longer matters if I know

exactly where I am meant to go.

I simply take delight

that it is not yet night.

This, then, is the destination

for each soul and every nation.

Be in the here. Be in the now.

Let this be our solemn vow.

As difficult as it is to follow the sun,

humanity’s journey has just begun.

There will always be another night.

Sunrise always returns to give us light.

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LIFE

Photo by Eva Bronzini on Pexels.com

This is all I know.

First, you come.

Then, you go.

This is all.

I know.

I know.

It is all I can know.

Yet something shows

from hidden places 

up and below.

Something unbidden

that hints at more, longer;

that feels better, stronger.

Where does more come from?

Where does more go?

Where did I come from?

Where shall I go?

It is never enough 

this life that I know.

This is all?

Can this be so?

I want to know.

I want to know.

I want to know.

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BODHI’S FIRST COMMUNION

Memories of bridal veils and sharp edged crinolines

biting the legs, seated and held still in quiet pews,

hands tight on rosary beads, Grandma’s gifted pearls, twisted,

turning, clacking, in anxious prayer.

Feet planted on kneelers already down

to hold aloft tiny feet in lace-edged socks

in white leather shoes with silver buckles.

Seldom seen relatives from far and near appear

to grace the day so full of grace it overflows

until the urge to flee such attention lightens the air

and breath seems a solemn plea to rise and go.

As my memories do because there he sits,

solemn and silent, and ready as I am never,

with a strength and wisdom so rare

it settles the soul and stiffens the mind

reminding us of the moment soon to arrive

when Grace itself takes form in the Host,

a thought so alive we all rise to process up the aisle

all smiles of delight light us inside and out

as the Host melts on the tongue and our hearts shout

God is alive! As am I. As am I!

Unconditional love exists in this moment of bliss,

in communion with all others, our sisters and brothers

within a family, a church, a neighborhood block,

a city, a nation, an entire world

of people to love and bring inside hearts opened wide.

No human assessment of follies,

no judgement of errors done and undone,

no constant surveillance of sins yet assessed.

On this day

with this child

one only feels blessed.

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HAVE A GOOD FLIGHT

Photo by Craig Shine on Pexels.com

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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NIGHT SNOW ON DAFFODILS

Daffodils in the snow, Torquay by Derek Harper is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

It snowed again during the shortening night;

A staggering and mighty sight

to those who yearn for Spring sun.

I, among them, am one.

The daffodils, though, delight

standing as tall and as resolute as they might

to bear the weight of our expectation,

cheering us on heartily in exultation

that winter’s quiet and tight hold on us all

yet allows the cheerful to stand tall,

and welcome with unabashed delight

another snowfall during the night.

And, somehow, the world, again, seems right.

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GREY DAYS

Photo by Daian Gan on Pexels.com

Some days are more difficult than others

and paint will not dry fast enough 

to add the details which make the canvass

come alive in form and color.

The grey, pregnant clouds cover the sky

from end to end and roll over again ,and again,

blocking the sun and the light in one’s eye.

The brush sits, waiting in the palm.

The heart sits, waiting out the storm.

The canvass sits waiting

as empty as life seems to be.

But, artists know better than to fear

the light has died forever.

Artists simply wait out the storm,

paint the clouds above the crowd

of grey and dull thoughts;

and, write the words bold and loud.

Some days are more difficult than others,

thank goodness.

They challenge the artist and poet inside

and offer them a place to hide.

Until the sun rises high in the sky.

then artists and poets run outside,

paint and words flying far and wide.

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

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LIFT EVERY VOICE

Photo by Grigoriy on Pexels.com

Is it the nightingale

whose song we hear

as day turns to night

and weakens us with fright?

Or the lark whose sweet song

drifts upon the rising dawn

announcing a new day has begun?

Together, they make music

and fill our world with song

that we may dance,

in graceful strides forward,

to encourage and make us strong.

Lift every voice and sing.

It is time to sing along.

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