Daughter

-------Daughter-------

It's the inherent grace 

of Little Ones

to unmake our minds and open our eyes

to how the world truly is and not how we are taught it to be.

For before she learns to measure difference

she does walk among garden weeds,

tasting the sour sweet leaves of Sorrel;

Before war and anger show her the other way of emotion

the soul way she knows to go

is the way to Love;

Before school gives her the means to leave the household

she falls asleep in the home of her mothers arms, 

and the bed of her lap;

And before nostalgia becomes the only street back to the good ol' ways, 

she remains walking slow, on stone 

and the silent dirt roads of kingdoms north and east.

In Her are the origins of perception,

and our way

to see things 

clear again.

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The Poison Underneath

-------The Poison Underneath-------

The poison underneath finally broke the skin

and a boy was shot.

Like the cells of a body to infection in the blood,

a crowd responds,

And the mayor calls on guards to keep a peace

that was never there.

But so it goes when the weight of such power

is held in feeble hands,

And a bandaged wound 

is left unclean.

For peace is a condition of the soul

and the soul of this city has been without rest for a long time.

But why is something so inherently easy 

made so hard to realize in the presence of dis-ease?

Why has such violence - such a public indifference toward the promise of youth -

become necessary before we speak of peace and order?

The progress of our world will ultimately be measured

by how well we preserve that which we already have;

Settling the poison with love.

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Ode to M.C. Escher

-------Ode to M.C. Escher-------

What our science can't explain we call magic.

When water runs uphill we call it the artists imagination,

smile a humored smile and forget.

It's the integrity with which the wood is cut

that holds the source 

of the prints remaking.

And for every stranger made to believe they're wrong

there is a hand to paint 

an even stranger picture.

For it's the thought to hand 

which creates the world

and all the magic we want to see.

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Farmer's Pledge

-------Farmer's Pledge-------

It is quieter now;

with songbirds sharing more

of late Summer's thinning light

with the gentle growl of the bull frog.

I am lucky, 

I know,

to be in a place where such a peace exists,

with so many in the world

suffering the ragged shouts of violence.

I will never know the struggles of another and I have accepted this.

But because I believe 

I can be of good in the world 

for all those who do suffer without their peace,

I commit my every sense to the quiet of this place, 

here,

and my life to the work of a most common need.

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