Month: August 2021

The Grief of Afghanistan

evil avalanche of masculine perpetrated misogyny.

Cambo and others

The candle flamed and then the dark enfolded it, taking the space from the rank room and filling it with the sins of the rich nations who take each glimmer of light and feed on it leaving the rest to wrestle with the deepening dread of night and —– nearby in valley of shadows someone’s… Continue reading Cambo and others

Money Paces the Action.

Money Paces the Action.

The turbid water struggled down the sluggish stream,
filling my mind with the conflicting consequences of
completed actions repugnant to life, like the stagnant
putrid puddles steamy with slimy sewage by the bank.

Terror

I wake, in early hours with gloomy meanderings. A spiky virus wanders through and I watch it  despairing that it will ever quieten and agree. Then a forest aflame floats searing my vision, cresting the wave of self destruction as each carboniferous death of a carbon absorber.  —- I slip sleepily into the comforting sounds… Continue reading Terror

Save the Life of a Child

You looked at them and paid,
you did that thing to

desperation.

A poem in desperation Its not how you imagine it lying at the bottom of a lake looking up at the sky, or sheltering from a storm in a ditch while working our imagination does not carry us that far nor does it leave us thinking we can’t.

The First Smile

the Loneliness of Easter

The Loneliness of Easter Pilate: Pilate stared at the growing hostile mass. Alone he stands to be manipulated and called and crowded, til he falls and human justice is undone – that God’s justice is embedded in an empty tomb.   The crowd: Together we are stronger and louder. Our strident calls for death echo… Continue reading the Loneliness of Easter

The Poisoned Butterfly

The Butterfly It lit on a leaf, unfurling those brushed fur wings, eye spots, golden in the sun and blue and white lacings, delicate and soft, light as feathers, downy dainty my delight. A tongue so fine sucks the sweetness of a treat, sown by the corn stretched meadows the man made poisoned wheat, the… Continue reading The Poisoned Butterfly

Grace at the margins

He walked slowly in the crowd. Each person designated to call for help and hope and she touched the hem. He told stories of seeds and lilies, each person wanting more; gathering to hear and ask for heavenly wholeness. He shared his quiet space his moment with his Dad and thousands crowded near with fish… Continue reading Grace at the margins