i brushed the tips
of her fingers
amidst the PVC pipe
as we sat
our forearms stained blue
from the paint and tar
plastered to plastic,
to make sawing us out
the shackles a symbol
that we were willing
to trade our freedom
to save planet earth
from the 6th extinction.
sweat glued garments to skin
as the sun baked down from the heavens.
even if we failed today
to throw a wrench in the works,
still we rage against the machine,
still we sing our refrain endlessly:
the people gonna rise like the water.
we're gonna face this crisis now.
i hear the voice of my great granddaughter
singing, "shut this pipeline down."
it's bigger than a paycheck.
it's bigger than a job.
if you won't respect our Mother,
we won't respect your laws.
I left a trail of blood from my bleeding heart,
Praying that you will follow & mend me,
But the depth of my aching overflow & my river of tears erase it,
Now I am left with a track to my death,
A death of utmost throe, lonesomeness & dejection.
© Earl Jane
It's been so long
Since I've felt your hands run up my thighs
As your eyes peer up at me
Show me your hunger
Your body covers mine
As your tongue hits the most wonderful spot
It's been such a long time
Since I've felt that heat
The trail of fire your lips leave on my frozen skin
Its been such a long time
Since I've last felt your lips on mine
The heat has faded and frozen over
Early morning, still asleep, but awake. Driving.
Trail head, moving, but still asleep. Starting.
Early blues, dirt and cold, move. Hiking.
Sunrise, waking up, seeing green. Accepting.
Light and day, a smile, and examination. Upwards.
Afternoon, some food, energized. Suspense.
Another start, a drink, you see it. Anticipation.
Final push, sun overhead, sweat. Breaking.
A moment, you're there, the peak. Relief.
A pause, a rest, the magic. Beauty.
Postpone, delay, but down again. Exhaustion.
Aching, sore, but worth it. Descent.
Time, darkness, back again. Driving.
Ahead -- another mountain, tall, for tomorrow. Sleep.
I long for the trees
Sun shade and sweet breeze
Beauty to bring you to your knees
I long for the trails
Made by animals with little tails
With imprints in the dirt from their nails
I long for the streams
and the things that it brings
Little fish, frogs, and other things
I long for the birds
That make their song heard
Cheers and lullabies without any words
I long for the boughs
The bark is comfort now
Like a friend that's always around
I find myself in snow
walking on moon dust
pressing in tracks
out in winter
trees looking down on me, what do they want
douglas fir, trembling aspens and more
solitary in a green dark
the cold of night in North Vancouver
walking a white trail
a marked path
leaving foot stones
the way disappears into nothing
keep going, he told me
In park I sat upon a rock,
Ahead, a trail lay.
I calmly sat and pondered there
Until the sky turned grey!
And in a flash the moon came up,
The rain began to pour.
I stood and ran to nearby trees,
My fear went to the core.
The world shook and morphed and bent,
My vision went askew,
And as the wind began to blow,
I knew not what to do.
Then in a purple puff of smoke
A man came from the sky,
He waved his hand and gave me wings!
And I began to fly.
I beat my wings against the rain,
Through stormy, darkened skies,
When all at once a thunderbolt
Struck out my painful cries.
Falling fast down to the earth
I readied for the shock,
But when I hit I looked around:
I sat upon a rock.
Ahead, a trail still there lay,
Just as it always had,
The sky was blue, the trees were green,
I hardly could be mad.
And so I settled down to think
On all that was my dream,
For often all the dreams I have
Will show a simple theme.
And so I calmly sat and thought
As daytime burned away,
Before I knew it, in a flash,
The sky had turned to grey!
I still imagine you lying next to me on occassion. I don't picture you as you were, rather how I imagine you now. Happier, Healthier, your freckles starting to bloom like they always do this time of year.
I still imagine you lying in the back seat of my car. Now that space is occupied by cameras that I wish I could take pictures of you with, but I'll likely never see your negatives develop again.
I still imagine my parents asking about you, when they'll see you again. Now your name hasn't been spoken in months and all I want is to hear it from somebody besides myself.
I still imagine you waiting for me in my bed sometimes. Now your place has been taken by countless people, but I wish they're you every single time.
I wish it was you.
I cry a trail of tears
from the Coast of Ivory,
land of Mandigo and Ashanti,
where ships swollen with betrayal
sailed and sailed and sailed
over pious canons and civil creeds,
feeding colored limbs to circling sharks
when they could row no more.
I cry a trail of tears
through the haunted hills of Mississippi,
land of Choctaw and Cherokee,
where wagons loaded with betrayal
on tireless wheels,
rolled and rolled and rolled
over signed statutes and sealed deals,
crushing colored spirits
'til they could fight no more.
I cry a trail of tears
to the parched walls of Auschwitz,
crypt of Sephardi and Ashkenazi,
where ovens stoked with betrayal
burned and burned and burned
through hair and flesh and bone,
scorching a million souls
'til they could scream no more.
This p-o-g-r-o-m trail of tears...