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”

Justice by Homicide

I will not look upon

A young boy being slain,

Further trauma  is not in the healing,


Is not working.

The mission changes, but the purpose never did,

To cage,  enslave,  end black and brown bodies,

This justice was never just,

It was always just

law and order

–Property protection at any cost,

We will blame the victim,

Will interrogate their life,

Ignoring the bottom line,

Innocent until proven guilty,

And justice is not decided by the police.

A knee,

a choke hold

a tazer-a pistol,

TOmato- tomAto,

At the end of the day

Another dark one dead,

Justice by Homicide,

Another case is at end.



Give, give

Give of your soul,

Give in pieces,

Not the whole,

Don’t lose the essence,

The objective

The source,

Some will take, take,

Take without question

Don’t lose yourself

As you are giving

Give for others,

But forget not

You are living.