Gullible or Guilty?

At what point do we become guilty when we sit on the sidelines?
At what age or level of vulnerability are we honor-bound to intervene?
How can we accept the murder of innocent children while we watch,
All the while protesting conception control for their war-weary mothers?
How can we march against abortion without offering our own homes?
Aren't all guilty of continued abuse when they protect themselves with pretense?

The bile that rises in my throat when others offer prayers to their personal god
Threatens to choke and kill me with every prayer offered to their deity.
How smug they are in believing that their supplications have power,
As if they have the secrets that those born to lesser circumstances lack.
I ask for the opportunity to stand with a mother of different color and culture
As she stands before a jury of the white wealthy who are supposed to be her peers.

I am weary unto death of those who cluck disapproval while denying solutions.
How many masks and costumes must I continue to wear as camouflage,
As I infiltrate the hatred that has been accepted as patriotism and Christianity?
I am becoming increasingly unable to smile sweetly as they betray me
By allowing others to dishonor me while in their celebrations and in their homes.
I don't ask for them to change, but can no longer act as if they are my trusted family.

How sad it is to continue to spend life as a loop of unending personal loss;
My consolation is in my belief that all memories are parts of eternal energy.
As long as I stop allowing others to attack me, I can preserve what was positive.
The lesson we must learn in adult relationships is that we can control our vulnerability.
It is our duty as adult guardians of trust to protect the sacred innocence of others.
How can we continue to save our own skins at the expense of all earthly innocence?

I have a voice; I will use it to expose the hypocrisy and fraud of those in power.
I fear not for my own safety; I have completed my mission of motherhood.
There is no power on earth stronger than one that lives for future generations,
Knowing that only they can become focused, not only on now, but on eternity.
What greater gift can I have in my waning years than to be a trusted elder,
And use the pain that I suffered to help empower a young person's energy?

In addition to my voice, I'm available and willing to offer my physical self,
To stand as a shield between the vulnerable and those who would harm them.
Would that I had more than one body to offer as a human shield
Knowing that after I do so, I will be attacked by those I protected.
Only the youngest children are actually totally innocent of guile;
Others will do anything to earn the pretend protection of abusive gods.

Until humans are willing to accept no gods or others who rule with fear,
Those who refuse to quiver will be martyrs to those that they save.
Rather than feeling grateful, they feel as if they have been exposed;
In order to feel empowered, they rise up against their shields from harm.
The abused are in the arms of the oppressors, and now a favored child.
It seems only death will release me from the cycle of second-hand abuse.

Sitting My Own Shiva

For many years I sat Shiva for my own life and my own dreams,
Allowing in only good stories, so as to invite eternal peace.
Never would I allow others to tell me that I was mistaken,
That not all that had happened was worthy of fond memory.

I have only myself now with whom to share my fantasies
Of a life of love and sharing with all who crossed my path.
It is easier this way that listening to lying accusations
That seek to re-frame my history to fit another's stage play.

I know who we have encountered and given some of our sacred;
I am now at peace with hoping that my staying silent may help heal them.
I know our goodness wasn't false, though it has been turned against us,
As if we were stealing the very spirits out of the mouths of their babes.

The final words have been spoken. The casket is now closed.
No more will I suffer from seeing the accusations in their eyes.
How did I not realize that life among what are called humans
Is infinitely more dangerous than life among rabid wolves?

I will arise as a new person, this time with my spirit fully armored.
I have released the lies about myself and those who promoted them.
I see clearly beneath the shame and fear of my tormentors,
To my original strength and fully human dignity.

No more will I make excuses in the guise of forgiveness;
My silence has led others to overlook continued and great abuse.
It is not love accepted that heals all wounds; it is openness to loving,
That comes only with humility to accept our part in another's pain.

A heart that is closed to vulnerability cannot ever truly love another;
Because love, like conception, requires complete sharing of our energies.
How sad that we are taught that love is only ministering to others,
Without any acknowledgement that it also requires being ministered to.

How easily we give gods credit for our food, safety, and shelter;
It is easier than sharing in the pain of people who make these available.
If manna, loaves, and fishes actually appeared from the surrounding air,
Someone would surely have had to stoop to collect these miracle meals.

The scent of sweat from honest labor should be life's finest perfume;
Washing soil from work boots should fill us with gratitude for the work.
Signs of dogs that shed while watching over our children all night
Should become to us symbols of true protection partnerships.

What if fathers were allowed to catch their own new born babies,
And to wash the mother's sacred blood out of their almost open eyes?
Couldn't we reclaim shared parenting as a sacrament, like lambing,
In which all are in the effort to bring new life from the mother's pain?

We must give ourselves over fully to all aspects of life and creation,
Rather than sanitizing experiences and leaving others with the mess.
The greatest sense of peace on earth is completion of a cycle,
Sharing every aspect with a partner, from conception to afterglow.

Can You Hear the Holy?

Can you hear the Holy in the whispering of the wind,
And do you still hear it as it roars through a thunder storm?
Can you see the sacred in an an puckish twinkle in an eye,
And do you hear it in a small child's tinkling, delighted laugh?

Do you feel baptized in the warm waters of the ocean,
And does garden soil marry your flesh to our shared earth?
When you cut an onion, do you delight in the tears it produces?
For tears wash in peace as they wash away our pain.

Does a fresh-baked cookie feel to you sacramental,
Especially when you know it was special made for you?
When you lay your weary head upon crisp, clean sheets,
Do you feel a bit of heaven is where you will spend the night?

Does the scent of your dog make you feel like you're home,
And do you love small boy sweat smells on your playing son?
Do little girl giggles and teenage code words delight you,
As you look on in wonder that they think they invented both.

Are all who pass your door welcome to share a cup of coffee,
Pull up a chair and throw unfolded laundry on the floor?
And what about the people who occupy your home?
Are their voices as precious as those on your telephone?

We no longer even take the time to make a full sentence,
Very little communication means anything personal, anyway.
Background noise, even mindless conversation and ritual,
Seems to drown all that is personally sacramental in its wake.

The scent of a babies breath as the babe breaths out innocence
Cannot be fully appreciated in the glow of a television screen.
The sound of sizzling onions and butter with their sweet scents,
All are carried away by the roar of the overhead vent fan.

What happened to our culture that we run from sun and pollen,
And never take the time to listen to spiritual voices of the trees?

We remove all natural foliage and hang up bird feeders,

Seeking to control even the flights of birds through international air.

How have our homes become so sterile, not temples of love,

Where we share homemade sacraments with all who come to us?
How have we humans become so crowded into empty spaces
That we can no longer hear the sounds of our own humanity?

When will we learn that no new animals should be born
Without the need for their efforts at creating work for them?
How have we not understood that war is fed by futility,
Humans without sacred vocations have no reason to survive.

Are we really ready to face our own, and our children's annihilation,
Because we refuse to understand the sacred scriptures of greed?
When will we realize that going forth and fruitfully multiplying
Has nothing to do with spreading our own physical seed?

I believe the object of human intellect is to help to implode the earth,
Not in ways that are negative, but in ways that feed eternal energy.
As we choose to leave our peaceful stamp on all that we've achieved,
We leave the resources we don't use to those still on an earthly path.

Each In Eternity

We're all pretending to be adults, which keeps us prisoners to childhood.
As we act like other than ourselves, we follow bigger and louder frauds.
The true self is that we discovered before being our six-year-old selves,
And adults began to imprint us with their own superstitious words and fears.

What they never told us is that they weren't, anymore than we, adults.
They were sending us out on an expedition to explore their own fears.
How were we so naive as to believe they were our protectors,
When what they wanted was for us to protect them from themselves?

Is it even possible to save all of humanity from this endless loop,
Or do we have to focus on protection and education of our own progeny?
I have chosen to direct my attention to only those with whom I share blood,
Hoping that each of them will share what I shared with each,  in eternity.

What a mess the men have made in shutting out their wives and mothers.
Who is left at home when they come home to heal their self-inflicted wounds?
I wish not to threaten you , but you must put down your weapons;
You and your brothers will be bandaged and fed while we heal you, one last time.

Those who ridicule your attachment to me are not offering you succor;
They are attempting to take your place at your own loving mother's breast.
Turn away from them and help me,  as I hold and heal all others;
We can, together, save energy for eternity,  if we work in partnership.

Amidst the Matriarchs

How important my aunt's husband felt as he pulled out his method of payment;
How my aunt pretended that her old lion still had the strength to lead.
He regaled us with his glory days, as if her father hadn't held him up;
She acquiesced, as if neither her parents, nor she, had shored up his ego.

My father's father was jealous as my father's mother held him to her bosom;
She had already given one child back to a jealous and vengeful god.
Where was the woman he had chosen for his partner in life?
How was he to earn a living and eat without his strong woman's help?

My poor father and his brother were pushed away by their mother,
Who knew that they had to spread their own wings and fly away.
Their sister and her husband reaped the rewards of the sons who stay.
How many generations will suffer for their parents' disconnection?

How arrogant are we humans that we believe we began the planet
Though cosmologists have proven we are new to life in eternity.
It will not displease me if my grandchildren are the end of our era;
As long as what they leave in our genetic wake is positive energy.

The time has come in human history to free the females from fertility;
It has also come the end times of continuing brute strength in males.
There is no more need for endless offspring of witless children;
There is need for courage and wisdom in how to enfold eternal energy.

Endless Loop of Love

I suspect the first face of the Divine we see is the light in a parent's eyes.
This was denied to our babies in the days of fatherless, sterile births.
Our babies were born to brilliant light blinding them to all faces;
Robot-like doctors caught them and slapped them on their tiny butts.

The babies were quickly whisked away, after a brief glimpse of mother,
To be weighed and measured for any signs of less than physical perfection.
When our babies were finally handed to us, they were tightly swaddled
To discourage mothers from examining their tiny genitals, fingers, and toes.

Fathers were banned from participating, except during visiting hours,
Where they were encouraged to hand out cigars in front of a window of glass.
The first time a father was allowed the scent of his son or daughter
Was on the day that he was summoned to take his wife and this stranger home.

Babies didn't know that they were beloved above all others on earth
By these two vulnerable beings who would give their lives for them.
At birth, made part of a greater creation, without individual importance,
They were weened away from their parents by an angry, vengeful God.

My grandchildren were born into the loving arms of both their parents,
Who have never been other than vulnerable, yet loving, gods to them.
How humbling it has been to be allowed to participate in the process,
Knowing they are part of the procedures for setting our wounded world aright.

I pledged to do all in my power to protect my children and their progeny
From any and all influences that attempt to drag them back to our mistakes.
How hurtful it has been to watch them choose to walk  backward
To rescue beloved others left behind, in their family's progress's wake.

It is with eternal grief that I have set them free from further obligation
To celebrate with me that we have all, together, won the fight to survive.
Our celebrations, finally may have felt to them, like deepest betrayal
To those who are still married to their painful patriarchal security.

I have been asked to tell my stories of my triumphs and traumas
By one to whom I have connected over many thousand miles.
The growing pains of the women and families of my country
May give guidance to those still sacrificing their children to gods of war.

Production of Peace

Earth Day could be every day, if we would simply slow down;
We cannot cherish that in which we are never fully engaged.
What if we looked into the eyes of our babies as we fed them,
Instead of focusing all our attention on other activities in the room?

What if we really listened for true meaning as others speak to us,
Instead of treating conversations as mindless background noise?
It seems to me that even childbirth should be slowed down in families;
The human animal takes many years to become a responsible citizen.

What good does it do us to continue to create more life on earth,
While we assist in destruction of the environment to support it?
Instead of travelling to rural areas to teach them our ways of life,
Perhaps we should visit them to learn how to live happily on less.

It takes time and attention to appreciate what we already have;
Humans have the ability to dine with others, rather than simply to eat.

How often do we take the time to ask about the origin and treatment

Of the products to which we have such abundant access?

Do we ever take a moment to thank the steer who gave his life,
So that we may enjoy becoming one with his blood and flesh?
What about the bees and butterflies that pollinate the fruit trees;
Do we ever stop to thank them when we bite into a juicy peach?

What if every item we purchase carried an environmental impact label?
Would we then consume only what protects our grandchildren's earth?
We have been programmed to expect to have an excess of everything;
What is good for unfettered capitalism is destroying our own homes.

Poverty is, itself, a product promoted by managers of mindless machines;

Excess numbers of people are created and destroyed by corporate will.
There is no weakness in simply sharing appreciation with another,
Rather than proving supremacy over others by acts of ownership.

We have the ability to channel overwhelming awe into productive action;
Productivity has to be redefined as earth's protection and our appreciation.
How much greater would earth's future be if we measured human success
By how much peace and safety we generate in the most vulnerable societies?