Tag Archives: love

STRAINED SILENCE

Photo by Photo By: Kaboompics.com on Pexels.com

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.

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THE PERFECT STORM

Photo by Zeeshaan Shabbir on Pexels.com

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.

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THREE HUGS A DAY

Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on Pexels.com

The need for connection

upon reflection

explains the violence

unleashed in silence

within the soul, combined

with alienation of the mind.

Touch is such a powerful greed.

Three hugs a day is all we need.

Yet, too many wait endlessly

for a single, tender touch, daily.

If love does not connect us over too many days

we struggle to find connection in other ways.

The eyes of the lonely tell a story

of diminished worth, and the loss of glory

that belongs to every human being,

and keeps us from loving and truly seeing

the lonely person cowering inside;

afraid to show their loss of pride.

Shouting never brings us closer.

Flying fists simply make us cower.

Violent words have hurtful power.

We hide away from the course force

of those afraid to share lonely discourse.

Hugs would be better

to bring us together.

You may think this only a woman’s view.

I assure you men need hugs, too.

So, hug three people today.

Do not let false pride get in your way.

Thus, three hugs will come to you

and peace may one day be renewed.

Photo by Agung Pandit Wiguna on Pexels.com

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HEAVEN ON EARTH

Photo by James Frid on Pexels.com

I have no knowledge of Heaven.

I have never been there,

except in dreams.

One thing I do know.

It must be a place where I

am surrounded by goodness,

fairness, compassion

and loving kindness

all of the time.

Heaven is the type of space

where hate has no place.

The sign in my yard

declares it to be so.

But, as we all know,

My selfish concerns sometimes show.

Creating a heaven on earth

may be an impossibility

because of my fragility

and lack of humility.

My human state has a dearth

of courageous purity.

Yet, still, I shall try to create

Heaven on Earth 

as a constant state.

The lack of goodness surrounds me

all too often these cruelty-laden days.

Kindness is the only way to delay

the triumph of evil over good.

I ask all those in my neighborhood

to join my effort, feeble though it be.

Any small kindness is stronger than cruelty.

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4TH.OF JULY, 2025

Photo by Brendon Spring on Pexels.com. Read the full text of THE NEW COLOSSUS, (partially quoted below)by Emma Lazarus and inscribed on the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor.

Today is my funeral.

I have always been myself.

everyone else was taken.

I had become a fossil.

So many layers of sediment

have built up over time

that I

am hard as rock.

Too soon

It has become 

too hard

to remain human.

Especially, when monsters

roam the earth with heavy feet

in lockstep with one another.

They stand atop 

the crumbling rock and pray.

They say

that they

are God’s representative

on this dying earth

to show all the way

to greater days.

We were already pretty great,I say.

I thought we were stronger than they.

I thought they could not

make me, me, me ! their prey.

Yet, on this day we celebrate my birth,

I die during parades

of those who march behind 

school bands playing my songs.

A Statue of Liberty drone-scape

dots the night-time sky

above Red-White-and Boom

crowds cheering while immigrants die.

De-naturalized, de-refugeed

de-citizenized.

No irony there? 

How can the crowds

not realize I am dead.

They are cheering at my funeral.

After all is said,

I am done.

Too few mourners attend.

They have been forced to hide.

Even the Fourth Estate

has crumbled before my eyes,

its voices silenced, 

without enough pride nor ratings

to turn the tide of my demise.

Perhaps it is a Celebration of Life

which once was, but is no more.

Can you bring me back from the dead?

Can you resurrect what I stood for?

“Send these, the homeless,

tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp

beside the golden door.”

You can still speak these words.

you can still act on my behalf,

on behalf of liberty itself.

This. This. This! I sincerely implore.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

IT IS ALL TRANSACTIONAL

Photo by Guilherme Rossi on Pexels.com

I lifted the blind, closed against the heavy weight of darkness.

But, the darkness lingers still in a world where the ability to see

has become transactional instead of factual.

It is all about the money, we now see.

Truth is no longer able to set us free.

The heavy weight of lies shackles and chains us

and keeps us in our place, where lack of opportunity

now extends beyond those once enslaved.

Too many blindly bow to the oligarchs who stole a nation’s wealth

and put the blame not on themselves, but on everyone else.

It is the people of color, women and homosexuals;

the immigrant and refugee, asylum seekers, librarians,

historians, veterans, unions and universities…

the truth-tellers the upper 1 percent would hide

to save their greedy selves, and tame their shame

behind a white Christian nationalism’s false pride.

Resentment has been nurtured over decades of time,

hardened into stone and fossilized, with guns loaded and primed.

Do not shoot the messengers who only try to lift the blind

and tell the truth you need to hear, about those who put you in this bind.

The sun shouts in voices of students and grandmothers,

unionists and progressives who only want to remind

the leaders still in place, but powerless as institutions crumble,

that we the people will never give up the freedoms  so hard-won.

We will not allow the tyranny of the greedy few to rule 

over  the nation and world we love, never over me and you.

Have we become what we fear most ? A nation of cowards and bullies?

Are we strong enough to lift the blinds and see the truth, finally?

Are we asleep at the post, we guardians of freedom’s hope?

Has greed brought us all to our knees before those who wield wealth

as a cudgel, a chain saw and a weed whacker 

to root out those who seek equal opportunity to build wealth, and be free?

Are we willing to worship the new gods of control, corruption and greed?

It is always about the money; transactional, not factual; selfish, not loving.

Has our beloved community and country been brought to its knees?

Is our ability to love now simply and blindly transactional?

Is no one left to hear our heartfelt, truthful pleas?

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LIGHT UP

Photo by William Melvin, April 2025

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.

Photo by William Melvin, April 2025

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A LETTER TO US ALL

Dear Us:

Did you ever hear of the Golden Rule?  “Treat others as you would be treated.” When asked which of the ten commandments Moses shared with the Israelites was the most important, Jesus advised questioners to “Love others as I have loved you.” In the 60s, even non-believers of any religion, or of even the existent of God, followed the precept “Lead with your heart.” “Flower children” believed in love, for everyone, at all times. And those were turbulent times. We watched freedom riders maimed and killed, their busses set on fire, their murdered bodies hidden and buried in shallow graves. We watched the perpetrators of violence go free; the Citizen Councils ( marketing change for KKK) often included law enforcement and local judges. This is the America currently referred to when Trump supporters urge us all to “Make America Great Again.” They no longer wear white robes nor hide their faces. They wear red ties, dark suits and sometimes red hats.They pretend to be news anchors on FOX News and elsewhere. They pretend to be president like Elon Musk. The delivery system of hate may have changed; the racism and sexism have not. We are experiencing a backlash to the progress made over the past 50 years. It took 50 years for it to grow this strong.

I was a resident student advisor (RA) at Lincoln Tower on the OSU campus in Columbus, Ohio in the late sixties and early 70s. I was also a student activist. I had to become one because I believed in the Golden Rule. I watched Black students, Jewish students and women students derided and demeaned. I was privy to racist commentary because white students assumed they could say them to my white face with my full agreement. White men also felt safe making sexist comments to me despite the fact I was a woman. As an Italian-American I was sometimes mistaken for Jewish and heard my share of anti-semitic remarks. Much of the time such hate-talk was passed off as a joke. Whenever I heard the joke I stopped the speaker and explained nothing they said was funny, nor factual. I demanded such language never be used while in my presence. Those who just joined in to feel safe in the crowd became serious and apologized. The bullies did not apologize. But they shut up. “Stand up to shut them up” became part of every day life on campus. That is activism at its core.

I had a few empty suites on my floor due to an on-going criminal investigation. A mentally ill student was on trial for arson, having set fire in a suite the year before. Once the case was resolved, those suites were re-opened and spaces filled, as were other vacancies on my floor. Who moved in to those spaces? Black women looking for a safe space. Some had repeatedly been locked out of their rooms by white roommates. Several had threatening notes nailed to their door; threats to rape or kill them because they were Black. Most were ostracized and demeaned daily by white roommates. Their complaint to Student Affairs fell on deaf ears. When the spaces opened on my floor, they found refuge there.

Our dorm was typical for OSU where Black students made up a tiny percentage of the student population. My floor was unique. I held floor meetings to discuss expectations that we would all follow the Golden Rule. When I saw or heard of a racial incident I immediately intervened. Soon, I was doing racial mediation on a regular basis. Black women entered the elevator and experienced white women moving close to the emergency call button, with hand hovering, ready to cry for help from women just like themselves  returning exhausted from a day of classes ? Time for mediation! Call everyone together and talk it through. Day after day. Incident after incident. It was exhausting for the Black women, and the Black men who visited them, to face daily racial challenges and outright discrimination.

Another RA and two students worked with me to develop a racial mediation program in our dorm. Whenever the Student Judicial Council was handed a case involving a white student and a Black student in dispute, it was handed off to us to mediate the conflict. Our efforts were not always welcomed, but we persisted. Incidents of violence, write-ups to judiciary, and racial conflict decreased. Today, this program would be outlawed by the President who gleefully extorts OSU by threatening loss of education grants and federal funds for programs and research. OSU has caved to the bullies. OSU is not standing up to shut up the racism. It would cost money. And money is god in America, and on college campuses.

OSU is caving to racists and bullies again. And, not just OSU. Columbia University, indeed nearly all colleges and universities, if not all, are caving to racist bullies under the guise of following the law, accepting the lawless and illegal actions of the current administration. Following the law would require universities to protect the free speech rights of faculty and students, to abide by employment contracts and civil service laws to protect both administrative employees and faculty. Universities with law schools had readily-available experts to stand up, speak out and take action. I was an Associate Director of Law at Ohio University. There is a national organization of such attorneys. Why are they so silent? Why have university presidents and provosts not joined arms to defend their campuses against illegal searches and seizures of students? Why did Columbia University not come to the aid of Mahmoud Khalil and his family? If they did so in any way, it was neither apparent nor sufficient. 

The Poster Boy President leading the racist mob of greedy Americans spoke at the DOJ recently. His racist and personal attacks on lawyers, prosecutors and judges, was accepted and even cheered. Racism and greed cross all boundaries and sexual preferences, exist within every profession, religion and community group. It is a constant and persistent threat to the principles of democracy. Those whose racism had been laid low, who crawled under rocks to hide their sins, have crawled back out, empowered by the greed for wealth and power, threatened by those they spurn who have finally found success on a more equal path, and undermined by their own sense of failure despite the promise of an American Dream. Instead of blaming the greedy power-brokers of industry, banking and finance, politics and education they blame their fellow victims. Their racism blinds them to truth, and they willingly embrace false-hoods and disinformation. They would not recognize a fact if it stared them in the face. They would prefer to attack the fact and the experts offering the truth of the fact.

As a lawyer, as an educator, as a writer, I am heart-broken over the loss of my country, my Constitution and its guarantees of personal freedom for all persons who are in this country…no matter where they came from, or how they got here. That is the promise of America. That is the American Dream. Shopping for cheap goods because your existence only matters if those power-brokers can make a buck off you cannot fill the place freedom once filled within the American heart and psyche. Woke? Woke is what is required to survive the on-slaught against a free people who simply want to find a good-paying job, buy a house, feed and educate their family. The power-brokers want us to stay asleep. Like children, we are angels in our sleep, causing them no discomfort, and quietly staying out of their way as they take over our economy, our government institutions, our military, our banking system, our educational systems and local/public schools…even our post office! 

Wake up, my fellow lawyers, my fellow professors, my fellow school teachers, my fellow social workers, my fellow  counselors, my fellow retail workers, my fellow waitresses and caterers, my fellow babysitters, my fellow students, my fellow Catholics and people of faith, my fellow Americans. Wake up and stay woke! We have work to do, if we can stay awake to do it loudly and persistently. This is no time to lie down and feign sleep. God knows, none of us sleep well theses days.

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D.E.I. and I

Photo by Nicholas Swatz on Pexels.com

I have stayed away from words, 

breathless, in my grief,

for too long.

Diversity is my faith.

Equity is my hope.

Inclusion is my love.

Each breath I take is a promise

that things will be better someday.

And, they have been for a time,

in places expanding across space,

across multiple divides.

In a school, then university.

In a church, then a community.

Across a state, on national forums

Each breath inhaled the hate,

expanded and expelled love in its place.

Breaths took down barriers, created programs,

enacted policies, changed syllabi,

created courses and news ways of seeing,

new avenues of progress, new ways of being.

The backlash always came,

in drips and drabs, all the same.

But this! This! It is a fearsome game.

It is not D.E.I. which they decry.

They want to see us hold our breath

and die.

They SNAP food from the mouths of babes.

They ask the aged and disabled to work their own miracles,

heal themselves without medic-aid,

waste away, and die.

They place tariffs on those who stood at our side.

Making us all pay more for less to save their pride.

They fill their pockets with our labor,

changing coins to crypto for their greedy favor.

They extort heroes who fight to protect freedom world-wide

so that dictators and killers can be by their side.

They miss the days when the few controlled the many.

They refuse to compete, or share even one penny;

pennies earned from our labor, not theirs.

Lately, it seems we have not got a prayer.

We seldom did. But, do not despair.

What we did have was the freedom to try.

Now, our hard-won freedom to speak and act is denied.

We are being denied the right to even try.

We still have one another, and our God-given rights.

We will never allow those to be shoved aside.

And at the end of this life we shall hold hands and sigh

We tried. 

We tried.

We tried!

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AWAKE AT TWO

I started to wake when I was two.

Before I knew 

to look at anything or anyone

for something other than

who they were,  or

what they could do.

Color, gender, wealth or age

meant nothing to me.

I was almost brand new.

I had no context to see

why such differences

should matter to me.

Mom and I were shopping

in the bargain basement

of the Five and Dime store

when I suddenly awakened in awe

to the most beautiful woman I ever saw.

“Mommy, I shouted with delight.

Look at the chocolate lady.”

The lady smiled. Mommy frowned.

She took my hand, turned me around,

and bending down 

instructed me in a hushed voice,

“It is not nice to comment 

on how anyone looks.”

The Lady saw my distress and guessed

I felt I had done something bad.

But, she smiled as if she were glad

and simply asked me with tender care,

“Do you like chocolate, little one?”

In joyful glee I replied “it is my very favorite thing.”

Mommy sighed, and apologized 

for her daughter’s lack of manners.

“No need” was the reply. 

And with a loving smile she knelt at my side.

“Thank you,” she said, “for seeing me

and thinking of me so lovingly.

And so I learned that day to stay awake

and notice all the wonderful people

surrounding me,

sharing love so easily.

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