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You know what
to do with yourself
after all these years
paving hour upon
laborious hour
onto your delicate life
ignoring the person
behind the insurmountable
barricades to yourself
Now is here
Present for you
you get to decide
if you are curious enough
to discover who you
truly are
even after the obligations
after the excuses
You get to find you
in all your
luminescent glory
They will leave.
for we were not the
keepers of the Earth.
with our uncouth ways.
We were at best very
bad neighbors. or
thieves really.
war mongers. perhaps
greedy nonetheless
We were just too ****
obnoxious to hear them purling
their songs.
to catch them.
to mend their welted wings.
too **** arrogant
for this Earth.
for kindness.
for compassion.
or empathy.
They have left.
For we were too deeply
engrossed in our
selves to see their songs.
written on the sky.
  Mar 19 Tanisha Jackland
words moved me, and
i wanted my fingers to blister and my
bones to ache
but my mind withers and my heart breaks
i swallowed ink and still i couldn’t
make the words flow like they used to as if
almost as if
they refuse to
I've bled
not because
I am a
broken sinner

I've bled
because I
am woman
harbinger of
new moons
and unspoken

I've bled
life into the impermanent
landscape of the soul
like gravity
holding you down
in spite of the spinning

I am the fierce
traversing the

In this
black moment
I am forever
I carry
this womb
with the honor of
mothers before me

Now I am woman as crone
ushering in the new world
of infinite love and magic
Revised old poem
there's something beautiful
about tall buildings
and a dark street,
the vacant restaurants and stores

the drive-throughs
on their way to work
don't see it
don't feel you
don't hear your voice of desperation
or the screech from the garbage trucks

there's something beautiful
on the corner
of Dewitt and Springwood Ave

where there were dances
at the bingo hall,
the fist fights outside

and angels
with their eyes
come hither,
and giggled softly

and with voices
like rain
and with a touch of regret
sang all the sad songs

I hear

the ghosts of Springwood and Dewitt
in search of hope or a prayer

or perhaps it's just the police
or an ambulance

there's something beautiful
about you,
dark avenue
of crossroads
where the hanged men are dump

and shotgun in my hands
i'm going to run down
that avenue of dead dreams

the revolution is at hand
We were intelligent once.
Nothing was artificial about us.
The stars reigned over
our astrology.
we were content.
We read the sky. like
prophets undying.
We listened to the soft
voices of the rain and plants.
We obeyed our station in the world.
to the rhythm of everything.

What happened to us.


and we'll begin again.
releasing what
has to be shed.
keeping the core
of our souls intact
like trees

we will be still
like the wisdom
of trees.

"For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Mark 8:36
You will
always be the
light.  for me.
you are. Life.
I see you.
the long distance
between us
does not blind me
from your heart.
Where God lives.
And She has a way
of showing up
out of no where
out from the depths
of bleakness. Stopping.
Your suffering.
It travels from across
the globe again and again.
We see you.
Our collective hearts breaking.
Open. Unseen.
Gifts flowing from the seat of God.
There sitting with you.
without suffering.
Like you
are Majestic. Eternal.
Love sending you love.
Always. And again.
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