and again i write into the night . hurricanes roar, days won't end i am sick to death of commerce and fear of dying someone called me from Burma today, mayanmar both names showed up on my bombasted phone where my number had be grabbed by the greedy one guy had an Indian accent my heart was not ready for international wonderings today i would like to afford a renewed passport so at least i could make it over the border into Canada should the whim arrise they'll put a chip in this time to find or hunt me down for some imagined tresspass or to save me is what they say i mistrust the greedy powerful, well not all but most a wealthy athlete gave away 150 million bucks today his face looked kind i think he didn't want another Katrina, but with global warming the opportunities will abound I think, don't know but guess in our one room rental i sit at the card table far from home, but remeber to be grateful for dry ground and a roof though i do not like what happens here i see the deep poverty and sorrow all around me, feel the bigger call to do something i don't know what but guess at compassion in action where it finds me it is night and someone called me from Burma today. i couldn't afford to answer, but it's there recorded Iphones do that take us way past ourselves clikidy clak the keys tap out a message maybe just that i am here trying to know how to help, i am here anyway, i write into the night of hurricanes and sorrow, i write love letters to this world to the piece or peace that i am I write love letters into the night
it has been more than fifty years since I began to think of myself in feminist terms though I was born rejecting the third class citizenship card i was given for no other reason than my birth. my mother is 91 and will lose a bunch of the compensation my father had when he died a few days ago though she was married to him for 71 years and worked by his side on the mission field and in churches across Maine until she got her master's degree and began teaching school though well past her prime i turn seventy in a few days and live on the nothing that is the result of raising children in my youth and divorcing when I was forty, working to get my boys through high school with almost no help from their father my ex and theirs he rides high in his retirement while i collect $312 a month from Social Security and the yahoo clown in our white house continues to banish those of us who have very little in support of his cronies, though we are used to that from those who rule us and scream that we should vote. for what? another version of the screw job? We are all on this road to perdition. God on the backs of those who persecute and care little for their souls or the anguish of those who find themselves unable to live. i am a believer in Love, in a world created and sustained by this phenomena very few take time to understand. it is not a secret hidden in sacred books interpreted by powerful men, but an announcement written inside each soul and proclamation of nature loudly stated by stars, waterfalls and oceans. i chose this day to be kind, to love as if tomorrow will never come to ignore the lies that make up our daily lives and to be concerned and guided by nothing but the One Creator, sustainer, lover, giver, and caretaker of all that she has made in fact sometimes when i look in the mirror I can see my resemblance and it is about the only thing in this wide world that makes me smile and keep on walking there is nothing better for me than knowing where i come from and where my inheritance resides that there is not one little piece of creation to which I am not kith and kin to the Great Mother Father origin, essence and presence of all the Universe be honor Amen.
my dad wants I’ll Fly Away
to be sung at his funeral
even as those who love him flock to his side
i go to his bedside today
feel the pinch of human bond
know we are pulled toward
each other in this salad of
love oil on our wounds is
being together although we
have found that most other
remedies are easier the pharma
book of love that has rats addicted
to heroin but only when isolated
and alone, back at the rat ranch
with friends and a warm place to
run they don’t like the substitute
for love any more lose the desire
for drug, can you believe we have
wared on this drug for years only
to discover that all we wanted was
the deep contact of other human
beings a touch like and the stone
cradled the face of a leper in his hands
rolled away from the tomb
just because there was no more loneliness
my throat gets raw
tears spill my belly growls
feel hell at my heels
only to sit in perfect
silence for ten minutes
until that unmistakable
peace comes oozing into
pores and bones forcing me to climb
out of a vast black hole
just as if it were only mud
filled and not a cosmic reversed star
sucking the life out of whatever holds
me in orbit like a reverse mortgage
changing the way of everything
leaving me cleaned out and ready to live again
got a bum knee
feels like the culture
of this land
unhealed deepest agony
an unexplained injury
who knew there was this much
torn cartilage collected by those who served
this country to get their families
out of poverty who knew there
was so much pain in the inferiority of those
less educated with less opportunity le$$$$$$$$ money
did believers lose everything to the lies of the left?
whose broken body makes us limp like a lame lost soul?
am I less because of a strong belief in God? less intellectual?
am I less because of the color of my hair my skin? or
my less than beautiful body? am I less because I grew
old and still never get beyond the bills? do I want to help
those with less because it makes me feel superior?
did a black president make us feel so much better than?
did he feel the need to be better than those of his kin? to survive us?
do i limp now the pain exposed both sides all sides lame?
will you wrap my aching knee in some balm some love salve?
will we get off our high and mighty horses and point the finger
at ourselves and wrap our sore and and bleeding knees and bow
our bodies our heads to the ground like our Muslim sisters?
can we wail our grief till our tears spill down and heal these
knees till we can dance again whole children of the same land the same soul?