For There Is Love

muslim-woman-praying.jpg

We are taught to know love,

a spectacular spiritual solemnity

we embrace

wonder

wander through our lives

with a constant

in some evaluative sojourn.

 

We know lives

touch the spirit of others

in quiet encounters

a silence can speak so

tenderly in its clarity

to know her,

answer him,

wander through a myriad

of human condition

centered proclivities.

 

Yet in the quiet

of loss

of tragedy

of the knowledge

we do not have,

though sometimes protest

to hold the key

to why it is

who we are

what we might become

in such judgment

we can never really know

beyond our ability

to show compassion

in the eyes of hope

 

For it is this confusion that draws

the most stolid heart to tears.

Advertisements

Two Lives – A Cultural Divide

Dedicated to the short lives of Bushra Abdi, 19, and Zeynab (Hapsa) Abdalla 19


girls


 

There are already open wounds

two young women lost their lives

their final moments

in a panic with 911.

 

We have these preliminary assumptions

the dead can no longer speak

a certain beauty will now forever

encompass the memory of their lives.

 

What happens in the middle of the morning

to find the soul and heart

crying for safety, lost in a certain mire

unable to see, perhaps without ability.

 

Now we have to listen

we have to hope in the midst of tragedy

no foul play, only the reality

of two lives ending in such a tragic way.

 

They perished in a city

in a hot bed of controversy

the marginalization of a society

lived and breathed until this day.

 

We will wonder the bystander

if there are questions to remain

perhaps two children in the throes

of living each day like their last.

 

They will be, were, are always loved

ours is not a place to judge

only find the peace of finding Grace

finding paths for their soul to rise.

When A Mass Shooter Commits Suicide

I feel lost and helpless, out of control,

I cannot fathom the pain that is now endured

by the family, the friend, the community,

the loss of life so random and unexpected,

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

I’m left in a fury of angst and simple confusion,

I know the emotional drain of being human,

living out our purpose and striving to be,

and like Hollywood, just when we realize …

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

I think we all think about how a person’s day begins,

the same as yesterday, perhaps a sweet happiness,

or even probably the angst of having to be the machine,

another day of social squabbles and night’s end purpose.

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

All of these moments we’ve all felt together,

we know the sense of sunshine in the morning,

we understand the beauty of a co-worker,

the laughter of a memo, the reality of our family.

… and this has nothing to do with the shooter.

 

There isn’t a day when we are awoken

by the silly notion of our mortality, when thriving

seems to be our goal. There is no reaction

to the possibility our life will be taken with random …

…. AND THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE SHOOTER!

 

THIS PART has everything to do with the shooter,

because those lives, those people that were so important

to everyone far beyond the trigger of your cowardice,

deserve an opportunity to COME TO LIFE AND WATCH,

WATCH YOU SUFFER INDIGNITY, YOUR FLAWED PURPOSE ON DISPLAY!

Seeking Truths

Walk with me this fine summer day,

Let me understand just what this way

of sharing ideals and complementing life

can do to end the plight of immoral strife.

We live in the land for freedom for everyone

yet look outside and see how many haven’t one

no singular feats to suggest an enterprise

may take their pain away, like a short-live prize.

We are world truly needs one another

to survive yet, even alone we will dive

if not together, then we begin a trail separate

that one we’d rather always differentiate.

One goal together as growing and living society

might be to outlast the ever present hypocrisy.

What are the truths we have designed our lives by,

why then do they still cause dreams and hopes to die.

Standing Room Only

strangers together

A Saturday morning,

an American coffee shop,

a normal milling of the usual,

latte, specialty drinks, fritters,

my black coffee,

and people scattered throughout the room

wearing their apple watches, laptops, fit-bits,

along with the regular crowd …

~

An iconic assortment defines who we are

as a society living within each other’s reach,

eye contact, thoughts, ability to dialogue,

all of our bodies sharing an energy far beyond our comprehension.

~

These are the moments when I wish I could

speak directly to the minds of everyone around me

without interrupting, without invading, without discouraging,

a happiness, a need to concentrate, a desire to have fantasy

take them away if just for the sip of their coffee drink,

away from the pain and suffering and confusion that does truly

intrude upon their daily lives.

~

I suppose most of the time when we think of others

we are certainly measuring our own,

so now is when I could acknowledge those fears

to be inside me,

that inner demon that allows me only certain moments

of quiet solace in the crowd.

I end up thinking though that if I am one,

suffice there are probably many.

where I stand to reflect upon my day,

another might bury themselves in their

quest to figure out why they are so consumed.

~

We all stand together separate, engaged, disjointed,

We all prefer standing room only to human interaction.

~

*photo found on rulesforhumans.wordpress.com

I Wonder About Time

I mean in years your eyes haven’t changed

oh there’s the brow, the lines of endearment,

but the vision, the deep soul of passion,

that’s what I want to continue to see,

I could go forever without being near you,

yet suddenly in the dash of a moment,

your eyes,

their spiritual ambience, their need to remain real,

their pockets that hold your tears,

why I can’t imagine any reality of the human condition

to be more beautiful,

a quiet innocence that continues to grow

will always provide some vision of delight

when you smile.

Time Release

Inside a profound fog,

the sort that speaks,

silent as a breeze,

noticeable along the way,

are the many realities we sometimes,

try to pretend away.

~

Walking alone I might understand,

there is little nearby to disturb my pace,

yet my same state of mind,

wants to survive inside the maelstrom

of a city sidewalk during lunch hour.

~

When time allows our lives,

to pause,

to brief respond to the ills,

to make a moment feel alive,

when clarity seems easily

attained.

~

When did all the clouds go away,

the visible atmosphere in sudden motion,

carefully drawn across a midwestern landscape.

Then how will a crystal blue sky

ever make it possible to imagine,

there once were shadows,

created nearby,

when lives seemed to exist alone.

~

Time release my soul to pray, in laughter,

while the ills I spent hours fearing, slowly …