We have what it takes
To end the world.
We've had it
Since the beginning of humankind.

Do not be saddened by our sullied and blackened shores.
Do not forsake your dream, for the tocsin will always ring
for those unmindful of origin,
who bear convenient constructs, writhen mores,
all weighed by the dunnage of fear.
Or worse.
Strive, persist, and wait and wait and wait
until voices rise and the pendulum descends.
For the lady still shines, clear-eyed and steadfast.
She still wants you, still needs you.
Your soul, your yearning heart.

Whatever you are
You meet something else
Part of you is the border
The other part is a long stretch of difference
Will you let them cross
They have to walk on your soul
But the other side you also know
The collision is what knocks down the fence
Nothing stops the wind
Or the birds flying south
If you let it happen that way
A stone becomes a river bed of conscience

To those who say I am not enough:
What box of yours did I not check today?
For that is what you seem to be curating with your life
Empty boxes
Except for those tenderly placed checks that don't even come close to filling those boxes up
I do not want your empty boxes
There is enough emptiness in the world without you forcing yours on others
In my life, I want to curate boxes full of love,
Of hope
Of tenderness,
Of acceptance
Of inclusion,
Of forgiveness,
Of unconditional, raw, fulfilling purpose and everything-ness,
That everyone should find at least once.
For it is when these boxes are full of the good and true things of life,
That they become gifts.
And it is these gifts that should be given to one another,
Not these empty boxes with the ghosts of your disappointed expectations
That I will never be able to check and satisfy you,
Or bring happiness to you.
So I do not care I am not enough to you,
That I fail at checking your empty boxes.
Because here I am,
Bearing my giftboxes that I have tried so desperately to fill,
Hoping that you become brave enough to open them and find
You are more than enough,
And you can leave the shackles of your empty boxes and checks behind.

a girl who reads her bible is a *****. a ******. a snitch. a snob. a religious freak. she will follow you around and exorcise and speak of heaven and hell until you lift your bottle and drink to that lunatic. you claim spirituality instead of religion and say you're buddhist and you meditate and do yoga and save the trees and marine life. you make up your own rules so that you can have fun and feel moral at the same time. then you slip up and change your rules and when people ask you simply say you are searching. you don't know what you are but you know what everyone else is. and those people who have it all figured out with their books and doctrines and churches and institutions and traditions. they are the ones who are fake. they follow a patten that has been meaningless since the fourth century of its practice. the repetition renders its worshippers numb and everyone just sulks through the service to save their soul.

but you. you are wrong.

let me paint you a picture.

a woman has been accused her whole life of being too religious. too stiff. she falls down a dark path that nobody, even the immoral, condones. she is lost and she stumbles and falls and wakes up not knowing what happened the night before. but under the painted and gilded ceilings of a cathedral she finds peace. she finds comfort. she feels the arms of God around her and he is the only one who has ever loved her enough to embrace her. he, who everyone considers the elitist, has accepted this girl who is globally considered the **** of the earth. to him she is a diamond. a story. a soul. a set of memories and words and pictures and a lifetime's worth of emotions and pain and joy.

so next time you see that religious freak walking around holding her head up. you think again. examine the shoulders set back and unwavering gaze. she asks you to listen to what she says. not because she thinks she is right and you are a sinner. she is trying to share with you. her art. her salvation. the thing that has saved her and been beautiful and gave her hope again. it is her child, her garden, her masterpiece. it is her religion. and she does not treasure it simply to convert you.

"Let us have love and more love, a love that melts all opposition, a love that conquers all foes, a love that sweeps away all barriers, a love that aboundeth in charity, large-heartedness, tolerance, and noble-striving, a love that triumphs over all obstacles, a boundless, resistless, sweeping love. Ah me!

Each one must be a sign of love, a sea of love, a centre of love, a sun of love, a star of love, a haven of love, a pearl of love, a palace of love, a mountain of love, a world of love, a universe of love.

Hast thou love? Then thy power is irresistible.

Hast thou sympathy? Then all the stars will sing thy praise!"

~ 'Abdu'l-Baha, Star of the West, VII:17, 19 January 1917, page 171

What I do to them.
I tolerant the intolerance.
I see individuals in the crowd.
And I keep'em safe and sound.

We're supposed to be enemies.
They obey people I won't stand.
They believe with no doubt
The things disapproved
With every breath and step  I take.
But our balance is calm as a lake.

We are antonyms.
They follow sun and I adore moon
They praise landwhile I honor the wind.
And we're a duet just as lime and mint.

But now  look at us.
I help them out once I've heard a call.
And they catch me right before I fall.
Always getting stuck in one boat.
And you know, we are simply one,
We don't care that  it's just dumb.

We raise our kids on words like suppose and almost.
A lifetime of Hallmark cards and empty promises.
As though identity is a multiple choice question
With only two options.

To the girl with hair too short for her liking,
And a body she does not recognize to be hers,
Do not consume the venom that drips from their lips,
Or respond to the pronouns stapled into you, as though
They know you better than you know yourself.

To the boy with the aching chest,
You are not bound by the stereotypes inflicted by society.
You do not have to justify your name to those with acid tongues,
And ‘cis’-tematic oppression carved into their hearts.

To every person
Who has taken their hearts and shoved it away in the abyss of their closets,
To every person
Who was told that their identity was like the moon
On days that it disappears from the sky,
I am sorry.

I am sorry for every mother, father, brother, and sister
Who took your identity with a mouthful of  intolerance.
I’m sorry you had to come out of hiding
From a game of Hide & Seek no one was aware we were playing,
And the tsunami of fear that ensued after it.
I am sorry that some of us could not handle your freedom to love.

To those lucky enough to feel at home
In your bodies of Adam and Eve,
Others are not so lucky.
Do not be the serpent;
be the guiding angel
For those who feel trapped in this tunnel of sin and uncertainty.
Spread the love they were once fearful to express,
And respect their right to be who they choose.
Be the ally to the world’s freedom of love.
Unlock the door for those locked in.

I am not Christian but I have deep reverence for the teachings of Christ and his love of humanity.

I am not Roman Catholic but I recognize the life-affirming power of community, communion, and ritual.

I am not a Moslem but I find beauty and usefulness in the teachings of Mohammed.

I am not Buddhist but I have seen the results of meditation, daily spiritual practice, and putting aside my own ego.

I am not Taoist but I have felt the peace of the way of simplicity and harmony with the Tao.

I am not ancient Egyptian but I know the power of the Sun in the heavens, and I honor the Holy Mother Isis whose name has been hijacked by terrorists and propaganda machines.

I am not Wiccan but I have danced with the natural cycles of the year and the moon; I have known the power of the Earth and my place within it.

I am not Jewish but I will not forget the lessons of suffering, wandering, Silence, and discipline they have taught the world.

Heathen. Pagan. Atheist. Heretic. Believer. Trickster. Demon. Saint.

Paradoxically, I am none of these things and All of these things.

I believe in a humanity that can transcend the enslaving dogma and intolerance of patriarchy and religions used against us, to see ourselves, our god(esse)s, and our highest noble values in the faces of each other and all the natural wonders of this universal dream.

Original Sin = the Original Lie.

I believe in the goodness and greatness of us all.

Won’t you be my neighbor?  <3

It is not enough to see
a soul will manifest
what has been sown
immortal purple flame
gnarled roots in stone
the truth of nature
an external blooming
expression of the world

a flourishing vision
voraciously spreads
animating the meadow
with honey-scented breeze
steep slopes sweetened
magnificent blossoms
open lavender wings
to conquer the sky

here the air is thin
windblown seeds
so carelessly thrown
to harsh alpine soil
become willful weeds
persistently untamed
internally unchained
forever wild flowers