Today

my son Scott

new pilot

is flying home

alone today

Peter son # one

carried his daughter

home last night

back from the hospital

crying

om om om

 

I took this memoir

from the ageing

computer to the page

began pulling its

bony structure

out of the hat that

sat on the head of

all  i know singing

om om om

 

all this when darkness

is upon this sweet earth

when each year we spend

spend spend trying

to find a way to end the sorrow

that comes up from the deep

yet our ancestors have gone dark with

the companionship of a thousand

candles for hundreds of years

wildly bright on the shortest night

shinning

om om om

 

Showing ourselves

who we really are

how far from home

our fake lives take us

no, as close as our own

skin this home we look

for illuminated by the

very dark, this light

sometimes comes with tears

dropping

om om om

 

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Weekly Prayer

Today is Sunday and I watch the world

From the seat of sacred rest I open the

Tiny closed doors in the heart of my utter longings

I lay down.. dirt and sand on my tongue to remember

Nelson Mandella, how he stepped out of prison

Leading the way unable to grudge to lay down to rest

He carried a great burden for humans Father of light

Son of the divine, this week is when we lost you

But the cold that spread over the continent was

Writing on the wall of our future was telling us to cease and desist

Stores began to sell in Black forgetfulness that our trinkets

Kill our home, that our more becomes someone’s less

Jesus was walking on the water of our forgetfulness

This week, calming the storm we created brought on

By a distrust of What created and glues together our Universes

We have carried a heavy burden in the base of our beings

But we are remembering consciousing breaking up as if

Freedom has been birthed by the Truth that all of

Us are offspring of Only One, not left out but left in

And for this my weekly prayer has become a song of praise.

Christmas 2013

new life wears thin

flapping in the winter wind

Christmas imposes a guilty laden

depression fueled by Wall Street’s

pic pocketing mad fingers grasping

before we recoil into our end of the year debt

 

burden of a happy face heavy

load we give our children

chaining their innocence to values we despise

self-centered greed creates a hungry

world a fake replica a tribute to empty nothingness

Mystic Mountain Spiral Galaxy from Hubble

 

this recipe is concocted with counterfeit spices

like Gimme and Mine yet the smell of it hints

at the deep reality it seeks to cover up

like Santa arriving through the night sky

a vision of love so whole it cradle rocks

this Universe swinging to the tune of the

Symphony played by planets and stars

 

take up your bow, gather the drum beats

of the heart of God let our swirling skits

remember who we are in the dance

pieces of Heaven and Earth bound by the One source of light.