winds carried the dusty remains
of a nation across the land
burying bleeding women
in breeding graves
dug by their slave masters
who thought to teach them
of their homespun place
woven in a tapestry
of chains
the remains devoid
of time’s progressive thread
that once contained
something more
than the prison
of being named property
Times of shattered glass
herald the approaching dark
Crone of a world war.
At night, soldiers come
children cry out, glass shards of fear
crushed into their skin
If we do nothing--
slaves we become, breathing out
blood drops of a dream,
emptied of promise
held within springtime blossoms
of “a more perfect union”
Nonsense things of twisted rhetoric
hang around the neck of a nation.
Words braided into twisted doctrines
of red and black and white.
Hatred fought so long ago
blended into now
with a new pandemic
in the wake
of aberrant dreams.
Here where truth once
swayed and danced,
offering humanity
a grand romance
of belief in a thing
the world had never seen--
Golden rules made real.
We knew our daughters and sons
would serve as the sacrificial lambs
to keep our rules golden
for all generations to be free.
Though freedom be washed
in the blood of our lambs,
we still believed
in the grand romance--
And oh, how we did dance
For over two hundred years.
Then the roped nonsense came,
tarnished the shine of our romance,
interrupted the rhythm of our dance.
The twisted rhetoric strangled us
as a new sickness spread.
No ease given; no treatment sought.
Pockets lined with gold
more important than golden lives.
Hatred and apathy listened
to the new prophet,
who said they were right--
Everything wrong was
the fault of others:
The poor in spirit are just lazy.
Those who mourn make excuses.
The meek are just weak.
Those wanting righteousness want it all free.
The pure in heart want to give your gold away.
The peacemakers don’t want us to be strong.
Then the new prophet claimed he was the persecuted one,
promising vengeance for his own sake.
His apostles believed his sermons,
proclaiming him their chosen one.
Order is all,
He said.
Law is all,
He said.
He would teach them
by putting all people
in their rightful place.
Justice lay raped,
bloody, raw,
beaten and gassed,
in the streets
as his disciples cheered
while the petty false prophet smirked,
holding a Holy book.
Re-forge the chain of Liberty’s shackle,
he ordered.
Then Truth
stopped swaying,
stopped dancing,
offered us nothing,
flames of romance dying.
Fear and greed migrate
Cuts a burn path ‘cross land
point blame at blameless
Burning hate migrates
No history lesson learned
decade to decade
Did all Gods migrate?
leaving us to destruction
in abandonment?
I’ve revised and reworked an earlier piece written in 2017 as a response to the terrorism of Hamas and the war Israel has declared. It seems to me that this slaughter by Hamas and the retaliation that Israel is now forced to take cannot be what any God wants. Surely, it is not what the Palestinian people or the people of Israel want either.
The blood of children falls as rain on Holy ground. The blood of their parents chasing after as if to save it, stopping it from concreating the land to evil born of old hatred as the world, emptied of all care, watches. No uprisings. No shouting in the streets as this blood rain of innocents falls, flooding the silent world as nations watch, hands bloodied in pretense of helplessness before turning their backs. The seven descend. Each with wings spread enough to fill a house. Shalom upon their tongues. Throughout the compass points they search to find all the gnawed bones, the muscles and sinew, the heart and entrails torn with teeth of hate. And once the seven gather all the tiny bits, With flaming swords used as needles, they try to stitch all humanity’s bloody bits into one thing well knit. Neither their swords, nor spirit of their breath have the power to seal the meat and sinew to bone. And then they know-- those who showed no mercy would be given none. Their heads hang-- Inshallah upon their lips as they ascend. Their flaming eyes weeping tears of fire as they see the red rider striding across the land. It is then the seven know humanity’s avarice and hate had broken the fourth seal. Maa shaa’Allah a whisper of smoke within their throats. From the seven sets of fiery eyes, their tears of fire stream Retzon ha-el across the night sky.
My daughter, mine,
though you live
thousands of miles away
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where a man caresses a weapon of war as he plots
to drill death into hundreds as he walks down a street,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where freedom should ring
yet a state ties you hostage in righteous ropes of religion,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where you must sell your body
to feed your children,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where no one, no law will protect you
from the monster who sleeps beside you,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where you have no voice,
where you die in the custody of morality police,
where you can disappear with no outcry to echo behind,
sleep, sleep safe, my daughter mine.
merge with the unrepentant sky, learn the truth, the reasons why suffering and fear and hatred abound, feeding upon human souls, destroying what Nature did so elegantly design, the beauty of humanity from the inside out-- until we are devils, our mouths foaming blood-tinged froth while our claws fill with sinew torn from our innocent brethren, who different from us, are deemed worthy only of hate— and the earth turns on its axis of destruction in an unrepentant sky as any God that be cries.
Darkness gathers upon the horizon of our land:
A land we have loved with the lives of our sons and daughters,
A land we have bled for,
A land we have built upon golden ideals,
Shining as a beacon to other nations
But the darkness gathers upon the horizon of our land:
For which we have done things of shame and sin,
For we have killed our sisters and brothers
Of all different colors,
For we have kept others in chains of injustice
Because we saw others as less than.
And now the darkness gathers in our cities,
Creeping along the horizon of our land.
Now. Now is the time to carry that torch
Lifted above the water of a harbor
And see its light spread across our land.
We must be the promise
For which our daughters and sons died.
Driving out the darkness,
We must all be the promise of the dream—
Liberty and justice for all.
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