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Category: Poetry

I will sit with you…

I will sit with you

in the fear and uncertainty

of what the future holds.

 

I will sit with-

the anger

the bitterness

the humiliation

the fatigue –

I will sit with you as

you see the journey through.

 

I will sit with you

as the light of Truth

blinds you

and heals you

and makes you Whole.

 

And once Whole,

I’ll offer you a hand up

to stand up

to speak out

to go on

watching and waiting

for others

sitting alone

eyes covered

knees drawn

to sit beside.

Fear Not

Fear creeps in

unwanted, unexpected

choking out reason

with the cyclone of

what if?

 

Fear overcomes you

creating a caged animal

clawing, fighting

with the dire need

to survive.

 

Fear transforms us

diving us over a great abyss

into camps of

us vs. them

staring each other down.

 

But

one chorus of

this little light of mine

sung in a homeless shelter

one ray of sunshine

after cloudy dark days

 

And

fear dissipates.

The fog is lifted

we can see

each other.

 

Compassion creeps in

unexpected, unwanted

choking out reason

with the cyclone of

what if?

 

What if

I helped you

and you helped me?

 

What if

I listened to you

and you listened to me?

 

What if

we together

overcome fear

with compassion

eating and sitting

side by side?

Hope (II)

Hope is a strong anchor

mired in dreams and visions

holding fast against the wind.

 

Hope is a strong anchor

settled securely and soundly

in truth.

 

Hope is a strong anchor

nestled deep within

preparing for-

 

the unknown

the what’s next

the what is to come.

Hope

Hope is a flimsy thread

when grasped too tightly

snaps.

 

Hope is a flimsy thread

waving in the wind

just out of reach.

 

Hope is a flimsy thread

whispering from afar

of possibility-

a new chance

a new start

a new year.

 

 

The Screen Between: Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

He didn’t know

there would be

a screen between

when he said,

“I have a dream.”

A screen between

that would intervene

And make us forget

the humanity we try to hide

because of our pride

sitting on the other side

of the screen between.

It’s easy to type

words we wouldn’t say

if we were looking into a face

instead of a glowing space.

There are still fingers

and hands

and hearts

typing those words

that appear

on the screen between.

And eyes that read

and ears that hear

those typed words –

Two people connecting

although not seeing one another

because of the screen between.

“I have a dream,”

his words ring true

for me and you

living in a world

with a screen between.

May we see

and hear

and remember

and dare to dream

even with the screen between.

Solo Soul

Sometimes my solo soul

(that part of a whole

silently shimmering beneath

the pool of reflection)

demands a turn

asking me to escape

to portals of pretend-

planes of possibility.

 

Sneaking peaks

(not stealing them)

of sights and sounds

of universes

revolving around

similar streets

similar needs:

groceries, gas, haircuts.

 

And the smells

and the sticks

and the whispering wind

all speaking,

screaming aloud

“Solo soul,

(part of a whole

silently shimmering beneath

a pool of introspection)

come be reminded

of the dust you are

of the dust you were

of the panting breath expired.”

 

Sometimes it’s all so clear

of what is here

and who we are

of how to be a seer.

 

I Write at Night

I write at night
When the house
Is still
And the moon is out
And dreams are real…

I write at night
When I
Am still
And my thoughts clear
And visions appear…

I write at night
When I
Breathe ruach
And the divine whispers
There’s more, my dear…

I write at night
When this life
Fades away
And my kingdom come
Seems almost here.

I had to run today

I had to run today

for those who can’t

and won’t ever

again

because of yesterday

and last week

and last year

and years ago-

 

I had to run today

because I always run

for me

for my health

for my heart-

 

But today

I ran for him

and her

and them

who can never run

again

without pain

and hurt-

 

I had to run today.

 

The Words Flowing

I was overwhelmed by the words and the flowing beauty of the words that came over flowing.

I had forgotten what it was like to be overwhelmed by the over flowing of words flowing out.

The courage creativity of pouring out an outpouring of emotion.

The joyful celebration of youth youngness and unknowing.

I was overwhelmed by the words flowing.