The clean church Christ
hangs on rusty nails,
dozen-fold years
denied a resurrection,
tied to everlasting
pain and death,
heaven denied,
mortal redemption denied
because the flesh,
existing between hope and despair,
refuses the soul’s release.

The congregation
is dead to peace,
only knowing the scrapping
of their knuckles on the smooth stone-
dead to the light,
seeing only the night,
dead to divine comprehension,
dead to the angels hiding
in their coarse crosses
of common wood.

Outside the lamb
bleats in the snow
wandering unheard
in the wilderness,
fearing slaughter
more than charity,
wandering far from
their muffled mouths,
wandering far from
their questioning,
wandering far from
their sense of things.

A student stayed online today
  to ask an earnest question:

               "Will this pandemic have a lasting
                 impact upon society, or will it, too,
                 be forgotten like the Spanish Flu?"

I hadn't thought of a reply just then;
instead, I stared through the screen
and spoke from my heart.

"I think everyone in school right now
will be fundamentally shaped
by this magnanimous event;
in prior generations, it was world wars
and Vietnam, for me it was 9/11,
but this year's tragedy will become
a fixture in your collective memory."

"My hope is that your generation
will rekindle society's compassion
and generosity,
that you will grow
from these months
of social isolation
to listen more closely,
engage in meaningful conversations
honor older generations,
your schools,
and the value
of a hard day's work."

                            "You mean to be a more kind,      
                             respectful, and responsible  
                             generation," he said smiling.

"Yes, and to show those
older and younger
what it means to be enriched
by hardship,
wise through self reflection,
humbled by uncertainties
and unknowns."

Forgiveness is letting go of the past,
And it doesn't mean we can forget the memory of the past,
Forgiveness is divine,
And it helps us to align.

But when we fall as a result of our iniquity,
It draws us back into captivity,
It inflicted us to severe pain and suffering,
And we'll experience agony for our shortcomings.

Pride has dominated our land,
Forgiveness should be part of our plan,
We should cut down every root of bitterness,
And let's work in love and togetherness.

Doesn’t mean your blessed
Because you done
Something good for yourself
God haven’t forgotten
What you have done
Like I said in the past
Like will give you a
Tasty of life.
Just right you want to be.
But that’s all

Take me to the sunflower fields
With you;to that chaotic little town
at the edge of the sea
With you,to the flavescent moores for a stroll
To that ancient shrine with idols abound
Take me,to the windy seas on a sailship
To that kawaii Japanese cafè round the turn
Take me to the vintage cities and cobblestone streets
To that souvenir shop for a statuesque keepsake
With you to the mausoleum,so austere
Wreathed in silver mist
To the lovely riverside as night falls
Take me... With you
To the top of the green roof of your house
With watermelon popsicles and ice

With you,
       For a kaleidoscopic journey.

I can see your want to wrap yourself in me,
I can feel the amaze radiating from your body;
The tingle you feel when my waves touch the tip of your toes,
How you mesmerize your soul with the beauty I behold
But that's just the brighter side to this green-blue field that I am.
Beneath the blanket of foamy waters are dangers;
The ones you should beware of while walking on my banks.
While the birds elatedly chirp overhead me,
I smile to ingest the humanity within me.
For the love of creation, beings add to my aggravation.
I hold under my claws your tempting childhood,
And beside me is the muddy patch of your adulthood.
I may look euphoric at a glance
Yet you need to rethink before stepping in my trance.
Sit on the bank and by my waves be cajoled,
Once you let me swallow you, there's a lot that will unfold.

It was a Thursday approaching the weekend when I knew that this Family reunion would exist. It was a surprise because I had not found out until the quoted day arrived around 2:00 p.m. The place was a plain like the places I could see through the window; It was the Messiah who brought me this glee with weekend window bulla.

There were all those who only I met that day, from my family only I who joined you, to this celebration. My great company was sitting by the side of the window and watching you cook and do cooking and dining with your family, glowing every minute. While the others enjoyed talking around us in that space that was no more than two pieces of a normal house, on a normal afternoon. We are all happy and very pleased to have us all together, before dinner. I looked out the window, waiting for the seconds that I needed to enjoy as my eyes watched you, because they complained every two minutes for having you near them.

The table is very tidy, food services and snacks are very arranged, a welcome tablecloth for the guest. Wood stove and crockery nearby for everyone who would not want to limit the talk of such a rich aroma of food to taste. In the center a vase with Bonsai Sunflowers turned as if dancing around us to smile at us overwhelmed.

The other two minutes would be fulfilled to leave the abstraction of the Ventanal and look at you to compete with who to look at more, at the place of feet marked by the mischief of the one that comes and goes or Look delighting myself in You, cooking and decorating everything around the guests and Laughing with them, to later see your apron look like a reign in a Coronation to come.

Brass horns sound calling us to sit down. I waited for the circulating round of the remaining minute to look again before you took off your apron. Everyone walks slowly and well pondered to the feast, I waited by the side of the window for two more minutes to stand up and go to the table "Your Table", and walk or try because maybe I had lost my sight for the mere fact of longing to wait it was my turn to see this polished reality.

You spoke to me ... calling me, being able to only read your lips saying my name, so that I could sit around everyone ...
I look for the last time through the window and forget about the complaint of the plain that I needed to travel through the beautiful and peaceful landscapes of the meadow that it was that moment of having lost my current consciousness ..., rubbed with confining steam and splendor to your offices to summon me to eternal sleep.

All gathered at a dinner for all with the photographic awareness that is nothing more than a pre-photographic moment to have the pretext of looking at you again smiling with your menu of great culinary preparation in between your hands and the mastery of the object of remembering it in his post - photographic polychrome.…

I looked but did not listen, but from so much not wanting not to listen, I could see that with the Feast of Prana a sparkling bloom would reappear from an afternoon clouded with grays of meta-gray colors, almost being confused with intruder colors of great iridescence.

"You walk like almost starting to get my hearing back, signaling that it was time to be with you. You come, I am distracted again to look out the window, not to get away from your addiction to look at you, but for the seconds that I had left to get closer to you. Your presence is closer than a soul can come nobly losing all prudence; you taking me from my whole and hugging me to go to dinner with you and the others. Then walking, floating and in silence your approaching me, I could capture your closeness, feeling the warm and bustling compaction of your right cheek on mine on the left side of heavenly candor where I hear your voice transmission, because with the right ear I listen and I have the audacity to hear the boisterous gaze that invites me to hold hands and run across the plain to meet the echo of a new meeting with you and the blessed whole. "

Baba Nam Kevalam!