My family has always moved west;
running
to
from
over
our brethren.

Now that we've hit the Pacific,
where to next?

and they escaped the weight of darkness peering over their shoulders
where do these people go,
what belongings do they pack
is there a limit on the heaviness of ones' soul

Can they bring love as parting gift? Hide it in their handkerchiefs, and then go

In Arizona last week
the migrating Painted Lady butterflies
were dancing and flitting
in stunning numbers.

In waves across the desert,
they'll live for about 6 weeks, if lucky.
Over the course of generations,
they'll migrate to Alaska.

One soon-to-be summer day,
a distant relative of this Painted Lady
will float on the breath of Eagle River valley towards
Mt. Susitna to waltz in the light of the midnight sun.

Anything, I have written at all.
May never be seen
Will never, be shown.

My words, will go un-spoken,
from generations that are,
unknown.

But my existence, will be, recorded,
through paintings, on
cave walls.

A little bird sings in her nest
Dreaming to fly over this world
Dreaming to see the green grasslands
The Burning deserts and the icelands cold
For today she begins the life’s quest

The north everyone says, where the end lays
Elders devise the plans to keep the troubles away
Leaders stay ahead form the pattern they say
Follow rules, be efficient don’t you astray

Don’t try, don’t fly too high little bird
You’ll get tired, strong winds will take you away
This world is scary you’ll be someone’s prey

Why north, what’s north, have you seen it
I wish to fly high on these winds of freedom
Stare at the rising red sun over the mighty dark clouds
I may fall, land low, lower in everyone’s eyes.
What is this journey if you can’t even see what’s below

Walking down streets
Lined with cobbles in broken stone
Finding the familiar in the unfamiliar
This could be my childhood town
But I am a million miles away
Crowded amongst strangers
Who don’t know my smile

Looking for comfort
In a landscape that is foreign
Finding someone who will take my hand
Show me the familiar in the unfamiliar
How this could be my home
I may be a million miles away
Crowded amongst strangers
But they will know my smile

People move
in fear,
migrating from
the dangerous militia
chasing them
with death’s gleam
in their eyes,
fathers carry
their daughter,
mothers urge
their sons
to move on
as miles pass.

Strangers
and
family members
are tightly packed
and stacked on top
of one another
as a world of choppy water
moves them forward
to a harbor they hope
is safer than the home
that they ran from.

Thin tired faces
hungry and anxious
hoping to escape this
nightmare,
easily inches from death,
move to march
across soft lands
and desert sands
seeking something
us soft bellied
cheeseburger
loving sedentary
men and woman
could not comprehend.

I hear the horrible hate speech
screeching out at me,
beer bellies bulging dangerously
with prechewed stupidity
denying the humanity
of these struggling human beings.
Tears of strained patience
crease my age lined face
as I try to explain
the reality of another being
who is suffering.

My peers do not hear me
instead they promote fear greedily,
But I see some strangers
holding up signs of love
speaking the same truth
that I eschew
to show all of you
that refugees do not walk
without a reason,
and we have enough resources
to be decent human beings.