the silvers of the moon
sing their song of winter,
exhilarating above the black
rock and distant trees, her
fire lights the night like a
street lamp, the shadows
thrown back, muted,
echoing the near-teary darks
of the clouds. i sit on the
window sill, look out,
breathe deep the midnight sky
built of love and winter rose.

The drums of war pound once again
While war hawks screech high overhead
In a very crowded sky.
Goliath Rolls it’s heavy tread
Over David’s hapless sling
And doesn’t leave a spatter on the soil.

The Evil One puffs up in pride -
Him of the sly and snake-like eyes -
He didn’t break the Olympic Truce -
A tiny sop to salve the hatred
Roiling in frustration and despair
At lack of the ability to stop him.

The watchers huddle breathlessly
With wringing hands and hopeless eyes
Threatening to take away allowance
If one more tank should rumble over
The chalk mark on the wounded landscape
That denotes the aspiration to be free.

The great unwashed pray to Dow Jones
And check the prices at the gas pump.
Worried that the Safeway may run short
Of toilet paper, beans and Spam
And merchants will hike prices higher
And how will this affect our road trip.

Hoping that the promise holds
Of no boots on that foreign soil
We take our children to the airport
Sending them to Germany  for
Seats along the 50-tank Line
Praying that the game gets called.

People who report the news
All turn the volume up or down:
“It’s just a little foreign scuffle”
Or “Oh my God - it’s World War Three”
Neither of them are on the mark
And we must sort it for ourselves.

And all the while their windows shatter
While rockets flare across their sky
And children who can’t go to school
Must take their naps in subway tunnels,
Cradled by their fearful mothers
While their fathers shoulder guns.

The Great Bear of the East is Hungry
And Ukraine smells like frying pork chops.
ljm

in the depth of human tragedy
there is also this dillema
of tyranny
that either the truth or the lie
is going to crash the tyrant

they play reality games
and
the delusion will end in catastrophe
but
how much of the world is going to take with it?

spring is in a rush this year,
to affirm the rationality
of life

sleep is a euphemism
for the slicing of throats
for the slitting of wrists
the silencing of hope
voices that echo
shadows imprinted
onto flesh, onto stone
embedded deep into marrow
to cause ache in the bones
of souls long lost
never made whole

After a period of self-assessment,
I’m trying to be a better person.

I want to be more patient, not just ferociously busy.
I want to practice gratefulness, be less snarky
and relentlessly sarcastic.

And even though I keep it pushing, by trying
to put these changes into action, out in the world,
the project is way behind schedule and over-budget
- I may have to make cuts.

God, awaken the love in me.
by so doing,
awaken me to presence.
allow me to surrender, to make a constant
offer
of self to other, to you.
devotion is how i clear space, i pray,
allow me devotion,
allow me to awaken
to infinite love.

i am a servant of God,
therefore i am a servant to you.

how beautiful does it get?