A Song For You

To write a song for you…

I’m not sure

that would be enough

to conquer all the land mines

and droughts of ego,

to call back love and light and mystery

all in their due time.

You are an angel

from a sky I have not seen;

you are a fighter

sent to battle with the demons of our ancestors,

a capitalistic machine

that drowns us all in its own way;

you are the oxygen tank.

 

Take your place on the stage, my dear,

and I will hear your heart sing before your lungs,

will promise to throw every rose

from my garden up to you,

to let you take a bow,

to strike up a conversation with my neighbor

when he says, “God damn, that child sure does know how to sing,”

to which I will say, “And she sure does know how to live.”

 

May 6, 2018

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Hello

my darling,

sleeping in this bed,

waiting until

there’s only now

and no tomorrow;

each cell

a masterpiece

of sound and I

celebrate

the beauty

that has come

into my life.

 

Slowly, sun lifts

from eyebrow

to eyebrow,

yawns across the sky

and grants us a grin–

now tell me again

of this thing called love?

I hear you

in the night,

just as gentle

and unafraid

as you are

in the morning–

sun shining,

blades of grass

shooting upwards,

following my mind’s eye

as I send

a word of thanks

to whatever god

there is for sending

you to me.

 

How many steps

were taken,

books read,

conversations had

until you reached

my lips?

How many times

did we scream,

“When?”

before I could

tell you,

“Now”?

 

It is always now.

 

It is always now

that I will love

your midnight kisses,

blush as you name

your reasons

for loving me;

now is the time

I love you

and the tongue

you use to speak,

words of rise

and triumph

and resistance

and awe.

 

Now is a time

for no time,

for no thing,

except our cells

lighting up,

greeting each other,

saying,

“Hello, again…”

 

March 8, 2018

 

Should

Maybe

I should

write more;

maybe

I should

change

the story;

maybe

I should

wear a shirt

when it rains

and nothing else;

maybe

I should

pretend

I don’t feel

other people’s pain;

maybe

I should

go over there

and explain;

maybe

I should

keeping looking

for love

in all the wrong places;

maybe

I should

look at a poem

and not a mirror

to fix all the broken pieces;

maybe

I should

see my throat

as a moat

and not a trap;

maybe I should

gain some flexibility

in my lines

and my words–

cut myself some slack;

maybe

I should

be aware

of the fear

in my viens

and nothing more;

maybe that voice

in your head

is nothing more

than an eyesore;

maybe

this pen

never actually

runs out of ink;

maybe

I am a person

that can help the ship sail,

not sink;

maybe

I should look for God

a little harder;

maybe

I should

keep the drain

clear of any shit

expect clean water;

maybe

I can be

the person

that person

wanted me to be;

maybe

we can see ourselves

out of this misery,

penitentiary

of American “should’s”

and personal “would’s”

and keep going,

going.

 

October 22, 2017

11:11

At 11:11

I will make a wish

that one day

my 11:11 wish won’t have to count,

won’t be some far off, preposterous thing,

that being a person,

first and foremost,

is about existing on Earth

and not in someone else’s wallet.

 

At 11:11,

I will make a wish

that all of my future wishes

come true.

Birthday cakes, eyelashes,

four leaf clovers–

send them all my way

and soon veganism will be widespread,

time machines will be real

and life will come with an automatic “pause” button.

 

I don’t want to leave

this time, this place

just yet.

 

The dollars we learned

to put above ourselves

back in 2017, 1999, 1776– they are far away.

 

Nothing to despair over.

 

It’s just 11:11:

four parallel lines

chasing after each other,

and never meeting.

 

August 27, 2017

Life

I don’t care

what you believe in,

as long as you admit

that there is something first and foremost,

yesterday, today, and tomorrow

beyond life and death

undeniable,

beyond your front door, your morning coffee, your Instagram feed

 

Life

is the spirit between your collar bones,

beneath  your chest,

the heartbeat Earth lent you

asking only two things in return:

don’t forget

where you came from;

don’t forget

to give back.

 

March 26, 2017

“Nature”

“In order for this struggle to have meaning, the oppressed must not, in seeking to regain their humanity (which is a way to create it) become in turn oppressors of the oppressors, but rather restorers of the humanity of both.” –Pedagogy of the Oppressed 

Pedagogy of the Oppressed has been an influential text in my own life and the work that I do as an educator.  But there is another, arguably more crucial way to interpret this term, “oppressor.”

We oppress the Earth through the way we live.  Every single day.  Killing this Earth and the life that lives on it.

Balance is the way.  We cannot take and not give back.

There is no refusing this fact.

We must put our energy into changing the way we live as individuals, communities, as a society as a whole.  For there is no “nature”– the term simply separates us from a whole we could never truly separate ourselves from.  There is simply this Earth and the beings that live on it, all depending on balance and diversity to survive.   No matter what we believe, we must KNOW this to be true.  And we must start practicing it.

Perhaps we are not inherently flawed as human beings; we are simply living a destructive lifestyle.

Sadly, tragically, however you feel about it, the Earth will not turn around and “save us.” It will balance itself as it sees fit.  Thus we, humans, the majority of us living in some form of modern society that takes more than it gives, must turn the quote around.  The oppressor must admit to their oppression and not only restore our humanity but redefine it.  Being human should not be about power.

Perhaps it should be about life.

It is much simpler to imagine ways for an individual to change their lifestyles than ways that an entire society can change.  If you or anyone you know has ideas, please share.

January 3, 2017