The limitations of our fathers,
they are not ours to live by. See
and be done.
Do
and live beyond.
The next generations are here to end
that which came before.
30 Saturday Dec 2023
The limitations of our fathers,
they are not ours to live by. See
and be done.
Do
and live beyond.
The next generations are here to end
that which came before.
27 Saturday May 2023
Posted abundance, approaching, change, history, honoring, movement, poems, poetry, transition, violence
in≈ Comments Off on These are the last days
These are the last days
of watching the valley open slowly
her soft green eyes,
of waiting for jackrabbit to come for breakfast,
of the coyote pack ushering in each full moon
with choral rhapsodies,
of tarantula pilgrims crossing the sagebrush mesa.
These are the last days of grit and clay dust flying
through any open window,
last of the sheriffs far more dangerous than the criminals,
of dried chiles and turquoise sky
against pink hills,
of churches holding centuries of prayer deep
in adobe walls,
of a boiling pot of cultural conflict
passed generation to generation to generation
onward making anyone arriving
within their own lifetime
a tourist.
Listen to the wildflowers and thunder, though,
and it becomes obvious–
they don’t care about endless strife.
They celebrate life and sing upward to our supportive sun.
These are the last days preceeding
the very first…
27 Thursday Apr 2023
Crying
to stop the dread,
‘Please don’t make me go.’
Crying to be heard,
‘Don’t make me go.’
She pauses. (Thankfully.)
My small body leans, limp,
into hers. Hers sits now
on couch spine, hands around me.
Before us, the hall yawns toward stern front door.
‘Please can I stay home today?’
Another shudder,
more tears.
In my growing self I know
what school takes, what it gives away
as if useless and bad.
But.
I was marched out to face again
what I hated,
and these many years later I know–
had my little heart been heard
that day my life would have changed.