Hot with anger
The memories hit
And I’m taken back
Back to when I was
Grasping for strands of autonomy,
Staking my claim,
Vouching for
For the words that will hold
That will make my reality
And I am voiceless,
To see,
What I know,
To feel what I feel,
And now I know it,
And the feeling is of airlessness,
Oxygen depleted,
Would this be more real if I were bleeding?
I am ill,
See it plain,
I know my body,
This sick,
It’s not just in,
A figment of,
A skewed creation
Of my brain


They are unearthing babies,
Who never had a chance,
Against a system we still don’t understand,
That takes and takes and takes,

My human heart hurts,
My sentient heart hurts,
My living heart hurts,
For a wrong far too late to correct,
And as the numbers tally up
Let us not lose sight of the numbers that are really lives,
Of the lives that were not lost
But taken
Genocide in and of our recent time,
And we haven’t learned our lesson,
As we hold stolen children,
This time immigrants in cages,
For being the wrong…
An inconvenience to other plans,
Inconvenience in this land,
Stolen lands,
Stolen children,
Stolen lives

Parting Pennsylvania

We traveled the roads
Traced the Appalachian to the end of the trail,
Found flat land in Ohio,
And wondered if we saw the edge of forever.

Turned back around to where my family is found
The space I remembered,
With something missing.

Felt the drop of my heart floor once more,
Knowing she is only partway here
Though her spirit everywhere,
And with him still
–Papa, in his recliner
Watching the great-grand kids play,
I brew and bring him Coffee
Cream, no sugar,
Little offerings,
Of thanks,
For everything that is,
Everything we are.

As I reach back in generations
I feel closeness to the Divine,
To the source,
Tears are all I have,
To praise and comfort
For we are live, and we are mortal.
As the morning broached;
The heaviness settles to the bottom of my heart,
I am smiling,
With tears in eyes,
Never knowing the finality of each time we part,
Knowing love,
And that must be enough.

Demand of the Divine

Night is falling in too soon,


Too soon,

The wind abruptly lifted from our lungs as we watch,

And recognize,

Too soon,

The good and sweet we recall of you,

Knowing this is too soon,

For the life that is yours to be removed from ours,

Tears they fall,

Or tears they stall,

As disbelief sets in,

We look to the great beyond

Wondering what resides there,

For you,

For each of us,

Demanding why,

Of Spirit we still long to know,

Long to understand,

If there is a why in the divine,

And what that is,

We demand to know,

For why do the sweet, the young,  the innocent, the good need to go,

And in unideal manners,

And why should and do the good die young,

This is penance for those who remain, 

To watch as you go,

We cry,

As weeping bodies,

Our sacrificial gift for one we love,

You are slipping into the greater existence now, 

in and around us

Joining with spirit,

We will mourn your corporeal existence,

But aim to know you on an entirely new plane,

Just as you will come to be,

May we know you more,

In memory,

Then we ever imagined of possibility.



What is Justice?

[IMAGE: Mural in Minneapolis by Xena Goldman, Cadex Herrera, Greta McLain, Niko Alexander, and Pablo Hernandez]

What is justice,

When the only proof of a lynching is the very image of it happening,

Again and again?

What is justice when this is the exception?

This is a sick feeling of knowing,

Nothing will bring back

The life battled for,

Too little too late,

What is justice when the very judgement brings with it a greater sense of fear for those of deeper pigmentation?

For vigilante retribution? Revenge?

Why does the hammer of judgement only

Bring to mind more images

More worries

of breathless lungs,

bodies burning,

Of bodies swinging;

That strange fruit

Our people know too well?

May our prayers of peace,

Of this first as a trend

Be met with a  change,

A shift,

Be met with true justice,

–Let [it] “roll down like waters

and righteousness like a mighty stream”