Do not suffer the suffering to speak
Their words have a habit of earthquakes
Each syllable a fissure
Laying waste any doubt
The earth will groan her judgment
Justice only needs a mouth

Do not let the wounds of the innocent bleed
Their blood is a cornucopia of life
Each drop a fertile seed
In time will yield its song
The earth will spring up children
New life from where life’s gone

Do not attempt to break the broken
Their scars never seem to fade
And when they rise
For they will surely rise
And you meet them face-to-face
Your artwork bears their testimony
They have no need to speak

she wails
estranged
my unknown mother
tears on the Kenyan graves
i feel her from my corners
a thread pulled taut
from the web
of my citizen soul

He is a fool
who, when the sky is lit
in the morning dew,
scowls at Spring
and shrugs.
She is immutable.
Brimming with chances
and hard won charm,
not a tremor in her voice.
She is singing.
Always singing
that honeysuckle song.
He is a fool
who misconstrues his gravity.
Ignorant of his orbit,
trying to tilt the world.
She is unruffled,
and he will roll off her back,
smooth as the mallard,
washing his face
in the sunrise pond.

How long has it been
   Since you were held by more than your bones?
   Since you were touched by more than fingertips
      on their way to someone else?

How long has it been
   Since you warranted more than a passing glance?
   Since your charm and luster drew them in?
   Since you last felt romanced?
   Since you were judged by more than your title?
   Since earnest eyes, full of patient desire,
      asked you to tell your story?
   Since gentle hands last turned your pages?
   Since you gave all your secrets away?

How long has it been
   Since someone asked what you were worth?
And tell me,
   What was your answer?

What is there in a footstep
wanting to be discovered?
Surely they are dancing,
who move without question,
following none but a song
or whimsical sense of duty.
Surely they are determined,
who are pounding their heels
back into the soft earth
that is calling them home.
It has been far too long
since I trusted my feet,
since I listened to their telling
conversations.

I met a man who sells boxes
Big boxes, small boxes,
dark boxes, boxes with a hole in the top.
right there on the street corner.
selling boxes to whomever he meets.
The man was sharp with a Colgate smile
and eyes that searched your pockets discretely.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,
especially you boys and girls,
toothy wink
Now is your chance,
don’t miss the opportunity.
These boxes sell faster than a free lunch at noon
100% certified to the industry standard
and they come complete with a lifetime guarantee!
I see you second guessing the decision sir.
Let me just tell you, I’ve lived without a box.
It’s not a pretty place to be.
The elements of this world are cruel
and you can’t get back what they take away.
I tell you what, I’m feeling generous today!
I’m declaring that for the next 2 hours
With any purchases of a full size box
I’ll include a child sized box for no additional fee!
But wait, there’s more!
You don’t want a box without a secure lid do you?
Act now and I’ll throw in our patented dual-use lock
Lockable from both the inside and out.
Yes, you ma’am, and one for your daughter as well?”

I watched in horror as the gathering crowd
meandered through his maze of assorted boxes
crouching down and stepping gingerly
inside each one that caught their eye.
Nothing like that new box smell.
Some looked for boxes with head room,
some felt safer with walls to their noses.
A father was helping his son
pull his dreams from a big yellow backpack
filing down the odd edges,
pruning the extrusions,
so they would fit neatly inside
calling his son’s tears the fruit of naiveté
speaking with a voice he assured himself was reason.
The shiny suited man approached me cautiously,
his salesman polish dimmed,
“Have we met?”
He asked with incredulity.
“It’s been about 20 years, I’m surprised you remember”
“Oh, I never forget a face,” he said.
“But what are you doing HERE?
Was there a problem with the box I gave you?
You know there’s a lifetime guarantee.”

“I met a man who collects boxes
in a waterproof warehouse
down at the bottom of the sea.
He knocked on my box and asked the simplest of questions
‘Would you be free?’
My eyes began swimming and my heart shook to its core
as I sadly admitted I had somehow lost the key.
‘Would you be free?’
He repeated, and I answered.
and at once the lid was lifted
and I was lifted
and I was free.
And he set straight the lies that others had told me
And asked if I would give him my fear
my pride, and all the other strings that tethered me to the box
I had sealed myself in for protection.
And then, of all things,
he whispered to me a poem
and it’s that poem that I am here to speak.”