Honestly Good

They told us to trust authority,
To think empirically
To put two and two together,
To critically think,
And then they said no more.

They told us to look closely,
To see the hidden image,
To glimpse behind the curtain,
And then they said we can’t trust what our eyes see,

They told us to care,
To be invested deeply,
To train our emotional intelligence,
And then told us “no” to empathy.

May the lessons nurtured by a caring world outlast oppression,
May our skills of living, breathing, feeling, knowing, seeing, thinking be carried on,
And instilled in the young,
May we remain unjaded,
Steadfast and aware in our moral understanding of basic ethics,
A guide that filters right from wrong,
Sympathy from cruelty,
And in times like these make the heart ache deep into the night,
Ache for basic, human rights,


May we be a shield of love and light,
Of Hope withstanding;
Resiliently, defiantly
Knowing and illuminating the truth when observed,
By our senses, by our sight, by our awakening;
Trusting intuition, trusting truth laid before us,
Trusting in our hearts, what we know is
good.

Amethyst (What Comes Next)

Today, something called to me
From inside,
A pull toward purple,
A smoky amethyst of soul,
A peace,
And acceptance
I have been striving for,
But could not seem to reach
by trying;
The more I let go,
The more I am at ease,
With what comes next,
Not with compliancy,
But reassurance
That despite how the path may be laid,
With twists, turns, cliffs, and valleys,
I will know how to balance,
On roads even unpaved;
Acceptance is trusting that the universe,
In all it has shaped me with,
Has made me able to withstand
And appreciate
Whatever happens next

Rain Symphony

Heavy clouds open their veil,
A thundering of droplets
Beat the ground,
And the dirt beneath the grass drinks eagerly
Wind sails past,
uninhibited by the wetness,
No, it conducts the rain;
A symphony,
Welcome in this April month,
With sounds that will calm,
Slow,
And lull
Busy living beings
To rest.

The Steps

I hear the moth tangled in the lamp
And the clock’s tick tick
Metronome,
And I am left with stray thoughts
Looking for a home,
Trying to delineate
Where things stand,
And how we do
This dance,
Never giving it a name,
And more interestingly,
How we already simultaneously know
The steps.