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.

-------

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.

-------

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.

-------

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.

-------

Stone Church

-------Stone Church-------

In the woods just out of the highways reach is a church

 

built by the struggles of the earth;

through water and times persistent roll 

the stone was split and formed an arch,

and a prayer was set in the heart of this tiny heaven in the woods.

It is with grace we trust 

that when our rock breaks

and the forms we have known shudder in the emptiness of uncertainty,

that struggle begets the re-creation of the soul.

The church is hidden

in heart and stone.

The prayers of love resound 

in the light of every darkened wood.

-------

What You Give

-------What You Give-------

Let me rest, Sweet Love,

for a moment here in your eyes;

in this place of truth

where letting go is the easiest thing in the world for me to do.

I know we've just met, but I also know I have been here before.

When I was a child and sitting in windowsills

with doves 

above the streets of New York City,

and speaking with each other through smiles, silence and singing,

in the only language I knew then and that we shared.

And again in the garden

where I have felt no worry against my pride as a grown man

to wander the days barefoot and dirty

doing what I need to do,

what I want to do.

The path in your eyes has taken me far away

but your kiss brings me back;

back to this world

where as much as we need to let go, and step back, and walk away sometimes

it is also where we need to be to do our work.

As we are the ones who can share with all things

what the love inside can do.

-------

Independence Days

------- Independence Days -------

In the tall grass climb memories of my childhood, 

looking up to seed-heads

like heroes, free atop sunshine

and clouds smiling shadows 

back down upon my little earth.

I remember those days with all of my heart.

Not in a nostalgic way 

of tying myself to a tree I'll never climb again,

but in a faithful way 

of feeling that by befriending the soul of one tree, I will have a friend in every forest.

I have grown older now

and taught to celebrate freedom just 

one day

every year.

But the child inside me

knows the real story

and asks good questions

about the integrity of tradition without intention.

Can we truly celebrate the independence of our country 

while denying our dependence on the land it is built upon?

And he asks because honesty is much more 

than just speaking the truth,

but being it too

in every way.

My grandfather built towers as an ode to an idea,

and it has become my work

to bring them down;

back to the ground

with everyone else;

as our roots are the stones of this earth.

We can all know freedom like we have before,

every day, every year,

when we again learn to look up to what is already free.

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