I want to ask society why it
broke so many of its people
Why are so many productive
people feel driven to suicide
Who took their self worth and
nailed it to the mast of net worth
Why are the wealthy inflated
with arrogance and the poor
burdened by shame
Who took self esteem and
married it to our income
How did a tool of measurement
directly become value

Why is it fashionable to be rich
and look down on the poor
Why are the words of a rich man
listened to, so much more
Why do people not recognize their
small creations at the ground level
Why do we rob the poor of respect
too give too the over elevated rich
Why are the poor demotivated by shame
while pride drives on in a ruthless
appetite possessed by the rich

Who disconnected self worth from
the flower of produce and replaced
it with money
Who thought it a good idea to abandon
people on their tiny rafts and throw them
into rough waters of fear and greed
Who said fear and greed make
a good flower bed
Why have people not been guided into
deeper waters where currents flow and
a richness in the heart can be explored

Two monks pick fruit
from bushes
in the abbey gardens,

the early
afternoon sun
blesses

their tonsured heads,
a black beaded rosary
hangs

from the leather belt
of the younger one.
I polish the wood

of the choir stalls
with beeswax
and a yellow duster;

I remember her softness,
her opening wide,
the scent of hair

as I moved in
and lay there.
The Austrian monk,

head to one side,
sups his soup
in the refectory

off the old
French spoon,
listening to the reader

read of Cromwell,
and the thought of Compline
and bed quite soon.

People make me sad
Everyone wants love but
No one wants to love

“I want you more than I love you,” He said.

I hesitate to let the bottom of my foot hit this dusty ground.
Every step is blind with no map or direction.
But it's grace that is undeniable and love that is unstoppable.
Onward you whisper, go.
No matter if I'm empty, sinking, or half dead, your hand remains so gentle on the small of my back.

So you lied
Those words you spoke 
Yeah those three..
I must admit
You ran a good game
You fooled me.
But here it is :
This relationship is done
Love takes two,
Moving on takes one.