sometimes i wake in fear
to the sound of anguished cries
to the bleating of war drums and the
rumble and thud of bombs

i awake already sobbing
our tears, all running together,
tiny rivulets in the mud until they reach
that place where fires,
debris and strongly held opinions
stand stoically like the hoover dam
a counter-insurgency against
the natural course of our suffering

the resounding roar of empire
mangy hawks across the way shrieking where
a brittle statue of a dull and angry man
rears it's ugly head each morning

sometimes i wake to this abhorrent cacaphony
and then i feel powerless

everyone is saying that they are waging these wars
for freedom
while all our lives and dreams are crushed every moment

will someone ask that man
on the tv with strong opinions and facts
about people he's never met
if he, in his infinite wisdom, knows
how many more bombs it will take until
the seething violence of humanity
cracks open the
forlorn and solemn soul of the earth?

sometimes

you call upon me
to visit my island

and usually
i'm not even
in a place to answer

maybe i’m
too disoriented by these
careless,
     prevailing winds

or possibly
a bit too forlorn

just not fit for
taking on
such marvelous company

upon your ship
the lantern shines
with a certain brilliance i've
never witnessed before

the beds here are
uncomfortably moist with tears
so i've
abandoned them
for the floor

beneath
a very opinionated
garden of
brilliant
igneous rocks

devouring the shattered
seashells
of an all but forgotten past

each moment the soils are renewed
exuberant with light

from our shores
we stake out our boundaries
at various distances for safety

outside of them
we are entrusted to traverse
quietly
with humility
with delicacy

because,
when we are lovingly let
to draw nearer -

we are allowed to discover
the light and life that many of us must leave
buried
amongst brush and boulders or
beneath the sand

quietly hidden from
the ravenous wandering souls
staring on
tempestuous howling storms
unconsciously devouring
what we haven't tucked away for safe keeping

& with such great gratitude
to have that arterial vein
willingly
with trust
opened for you to climb in
so you can be let to listen
to hear
to see
  to know
the most earnest vibrations
intricate intimacies
  the warm heaving and sighing
the most sacred temple
   the most venerable *****
   a ventricular vestibule
   intimating the harshest subtleties
& the most visceral visions

where we live
in our temples
we light lanterns

so many plants,
gathered and dried
placed carefully
smoldering

the rising smoke
allows us to see the low
trembling

more pervasive than a wind
a bounty of your spirit
enlivening, riotous,
and your own universe
of kindness

we can never know what to expect
but we like what we are hearing

do you know island, that you
are and have always been thriving
on the life that you give yourself?

unmoored you are not.

you are about as adrift
as the coral reefs
that ring your most sun drenched
shorelines

your history
shouldered with love -

you are rife with a certain heaviness
that weighs in a fastening
balance, a brilliant strategy
in cahoots with
all the others

it is true, of course
that we commune with the same sun
the waters drift between us and our neighbors
many of the same clouds are found
sauntering amongst our respective mountains

but you - you are filled with your own stories
they are still echoing,
incantations deeply canonized
from within those temples you call
forests
your very own cosmology that
you yourself
are only beginning to discover

some of us are fortunate -
our shores are sandy beaches
occasionally blowing over
with an aching dust-
often meaningless, yet
bearable

clouds drift languidly
over them
as if they were a break from
the balmy days of
self reflection

but most of us
our shores are scattered with rocks,
scree and boulders
worn down by
the relentless whims of ocean borne
storms
hurricanes that feel entitled to destroy
everything that piques thier fancy

avalanches of ignorance
come tumbling
off the great, hulking,
blind land masses

these hulking shadows, these blunt winds
they are
so pervasive

very nearly
inescapable