Tag Archives: humanity

The Other Woman

Every night I pray for her.
In my mind’s eye
I so clearly see her.
My platitudes ill advised,
meaningless . . .

How can I justify our God’s plan?
Why should I be free of need
and she have anything but?

I know it’s stereotyping
but her swollen belly children
deserve an accounting.

Soon she will be gone –
disease stealing her strength away.
They will be orphans -alone –
under a tattered canopy,
thrust into begging to survive.

Just one more parent gone,
one more family destroyed
one more ten year old
parenting a large brood
under the blazing sun.

Why she – why me –
I who have nothing to give,
intimately knows every wrinkle
worn of care . . .

But I am here
babbling words to our Father
as she dies bit by bit
under the African sun
in a refugee camp
alone . . .

Sunsets and Fireflies

Sunsets weave magic into my life. Whatever is going on, the beauty of a sunset gives me pause, lets me be caught up, if even for a moment, in the knowledge that the world is a thing of majesty, even if we insignificant people are managing to muck it up at an incredible rate. What will happen when we can’t see sunsets anymore, when the lights of the sky go dark, when brooks are too polluted to refresh yourself in them or even perhaps draw near them.

How far back have generations asked themselves if they should bring children into the world because of how bad the world has become? How many of us are scared, each and everyday, by the raging violence in the world and the rulers who seem to delight in making the lives of the underclass, the poor, and middle-class, the disabled and disease ridden people more miserable?

We are so blind to our impact on this planet. From the acts of kindness we do or do not, to the effect our acts have on the physical bodies of ourselves and others. I read how it was suspected a grandmother’s smoking caused autism in her grandchild. Yes, we all know smoking is bad for you but autism? We complain how bugs bother us but to go through life without seeing the dance of fireflies?

No matter how many years I have left, let me not forget sunsets and fireflies. I trudge so often in the sludge of life’s underpinnings. Give me a glowing sky.

Free Will

God granted us the Right of Free Will when Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge. Yet, these days I find myself in a quagmire of thoughts about that act. Knowledge has led us far. We are not the Innocents we would have been without it. And yes, I am also a firm believer in Evolution. Justifying the two is an interesting balancing act on the scales, particularly the Scale of Justice.

When I pray these days, many times it is that God intervene and fill the hearts and souls of all aggressors with Loving Kindness so they could never imagine conducting acts of aggression again, and that those who have been persecuted not rise up in retribution should that happen.

But then I circle back to Free Will. Frankly, I think it has not helped us in many cases. We have only to look as far as ISIS and the treatment of Refugees. Of the girls raped and children turned into child soldiers. Or child brides. Or the Racism that pervades our society and the acts it generates. Of terrorism in all its facets. Or torture. The list goes on . . .

And then I look at the ramifications of not having Free Will. Would research for advances in science and medicine continue? What about the right of abortion and birth control? How would population control be handled? What about all the cultural distinctions of tribes, religions, and countries all over the world? Would the intricacies of our personalities cease to exist? What would happen to uniqueness? Would mental illness be eliminated? Would we all be committed to cherishing and protecting the environment and all beings – flora and fauna? Would Religions in all their varieties still exist or would there be a uniform one or none? Would atheists still believe as they do?

What would God’s will look like? And ultimately, would God choose to have both Good and Evil after all?

What’s the Answer?

I’m a Christian, no doubt about it.
Or, shall I say I believe in the Trinity
well . . . the Jesus rising to Heaven
sometimes rocks my boat.
He was definitely God inspired
although I wonder, as a child,
with brothers to contend with
how could he pass through this life
without Sin?

I can’t get through a day it seems
without a damaging thought flitting
through my mind . . .
As someone with Bipolar disease,
Depression and a life of poverty,
it’s hard to rise myself to the standards
set by God Almighty.

And I wonder, was the same God
who was so angry at the Jews
when they swerved from the path,
the same God of the New Testament
who says all I need to do is repent?

So many people in the World
have never heard of God as Christians
claim God – how can they be not saved?
Those who worship loving Gods
and live in kind and compassionate ways –
how can they not be saved?

How can all the people who are traumatized
by life – who are victims in war,
who suffer in all manner of pain,
who love their children and family
and respect with kindness their elders
and those who cross their paths
not be saved?

I am so very tired of the struggle
of men who rage against other religions.
Of those who act in violence and cruelty
against others who live by different principles.
We have been doing so since time immemorial
in the name of our religions and governments.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if God –
for I have to believe that God sent many
messengers to nations around the World –
filled the Hearts of everyone,
particularly those who carry on Wars,
with Loving Kindness,
filled to the brim, bursting out their
arms and legs and minds . . .
so they could never again imagine
raising a weapon or hand against another?

Yes, Yes, free choice needs to be considered.
But I’d love to see what such a World
would look like, would have the chance to be.
Where saving the World and each other
became the most important principle
by which to live?
I wonder . . .

Impermanence

A book lies closed, it’s spine
and cardboard covers holding pages secure;
but a page is open, graced by the light
to be perused and hopefully cherished.
But fragile – too close to destruction
by the elements – fire, water, air . . .

How different when sheepskin held
precious words inked on by scribes
who toiled hours upon days
for a finished product that lasted
centuries – even then its words
could be scraped off for rewriting.

But the Egyptians, Jews, and Greeks
wrote upon carved rocks,
polished smooth and etched –
so many millennia later
we can still discern their meaning.

Turks and Mongols declared their
feelings and thoughts on stones, boulders
carved into mountain tops for the Eternal Being
to see – freely witnessing for any and all
who chose to pass their way.

Even our forefathers knew
to carve words into monuments
names onto stone
erect and solid for generations
to see and understand.

So many voices now clamoring
to be heard – tumultuous, tempestuous,
lost in the vastness of the system
meant to carry them to be viewed,
to be voiced . . .

Are our words so temporary now –
as fragile as the paper printed upon
or coded to be thrown across
the world wide internet –
which hackers could erase
by the touch of a button
or the crash of systems.

And on the Mongol steppes the stones lie
more than a millennia old, two even,
the caves of the Anasazi and Inca temples
holding images with stories behind them
while a ripped, wrinkled, tattered page
lonely flies down the street . . .

And the World spins ’round and ’round

These days I am having a hard time seeing the destruction of our world – one person, animal, flora – the whole of our great mother Earth.  Every moment brings more – a continual drenching of life, melting it back into the ground, corrupted, tainted, tainting. And I don’t know where to go, how to start, where I am needed, and am I up for the challenge?  My head spins with the magnitude of the problems, but I know it is just one step needed to start. Can we each do that? One small step?  Many are already making huge strides but I have a feeling until each one of us has the courage to make one step forward, we will be stuck in the problem. How can so many be blind to this?  How can so many forcefully destroy with willful intent? I don’t understand how that thinking operates.

What is my small step?  I don’t know but I’m sure going to find it.

 

Muttered Musings

Another day
God, help me make it through
have no one hit me today
let there be a cease fire between
relatives, families, friends,
countries . . .
I can’t keep living with
this hole in my heart.

Let this day be about blessings
make the whole world stop
and pray an hour, a day, for
refugees, Aleppo, child brides ,
untouchables.
the battered and beaten,
defeated and aching
sick -mentally, physically,
emotionally, especially spiritually.

In the busyness of the day
let all peoples remember
this is not just about them
there is something greater –
feel awe, revel in gloriousness,

Not gonna happen anyway
World’s too crazy for Peace
Too many BAD people –
in homes, communities,
We deserve better
Tired of waking with chest pains
second guessing God
being scared . . .
why are so many people
so Stupid!!
My prayers go unanswered,
God looking down and shaking her head

 

 

 

Shadow of Death

As I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death
what evil is there to fear?
‘Tis but colored air
to be changed with the sun’s rising.
Or . . . .

Creatures beneath the bed,
come to snatch the hands,
of little girls who carelessly
abandon them to the bed’s side
under cover of night.

The horrific rapist
who takes our precious trust
as he spills his seminal fluids
into his chosen receptacle.Or those
who repeat the acts over and over
to their children or others
.

The inquisitionist sharpening
his emotional knives to extract just
that bit of information more
to make his twisted imaginings
a reality even though drawn from one
who would do anything, say anything,
to make the pain stop.

For few horrors  are more potent,
then those stored in genetic memory,
merged with the weighting our days,
that enable a mind to envision
a nuclear bomb as an answer.
A politician who’s popularity is
dented by the evil coming from his lips.

Virus codes which can infect pain and death
on select populations while avoiding others,
leaving them intact, fostering legacies of discontent,
of narrow-minded bigotry and racism.

Of an exhausted, drained mother
who looks with love at her young children,
giving them everything she possesses within
for the nourishment of their souls,
while shattering her mirror
so she won’t be forced
to see her own reflection –
who has never been able to grasp
how to love herself, forgive herself,
nurture herself . . .
for doing nothing more than breathing.

How else could she walk
through the valley of the shadow of death
unless those shadows
were the echoes of her soul,
the holes in her true being,
the gaps between reason and understanding.

Down to the very acceptance of fear’s worth,
the acknowledgement of fear
as a long-time companion, and as such,
a dear friend.

As she rocks her children to sleep,
praying for their safe passage.
through their valley of shadow
to the coming of the light.

Thanksgiving and Gratitude

My Grinch is coming out.  Thanksgiving was when my Mother was alive and put out a huge spread which she would always take a picture of.  Thanksgiving is now the time everyone seems to gear up for Black Friday – except for us poor folk.  I’m lucky if I can do a little Cyber Monday but not much.  These times they have been changing.  I feel like Albert in Miracle on 42nd Street – “Who put the commercialism into Christmas?” Although now it starts before Halloween. How can you be thankful when you can’t keep the Holidays in linear alignment?

My family always treats the Holidays with great stress.  Who should go where – what to bring – Should we try to force ourselves into uncomfortable gatherings?  There is so much stress, you can’t find it in you to give from your heart.  You stand, feet moving back and forth, shuffling to find an easier position.  Your Holiday contribution to the meal lies untouched, except by you, the only one to eat it.  And worse, it was a staple on Mom’s Thanksgiving table – Heresy!!

Gratitude?  To either be with persons you don’t really want to be with or be sequestered within the walls of your empty home.  Honestly, the fact that we have a home is an amazing thing to be grateful for.  And if not your own home, than a shelter or another person who offers you a bed in which to sleep.

Disgruntled by what you have to bring or that no one appreciates it, or that you have to go to a Community Meal?  Let us get down on our knees and be grateful we have access to nourishing food.  Think of the refugees, those in Aleppo or other sites across the world that have no food, water, shelter.  And those within our own community, particularly the elderly and children.

So many of us struggle with the holidays, particularly so because of our disease.  Most of our friends and relatives simply don’t understand why we are so uncomfortable, withdrawn or manic.  Why can’t we be better?  We can’t, that’s why.  We are doing the best we can.  Just realize they struggle with our illness too.  They might really want to relate better with us but don’t know how.  If we need to, we can gently explain it to them.

But there are real and valid reasons for gratitude and thankfulness.  We do get help.  We can get services to assist us even if persistence is necessary to obtain them.  Our support groups can help.  Even if we are hanging in by the skin of our teeth, there are crisis centers to call, ministers to talk to, friends or neighbors to talk to.  We can keep to our traditions.  Watch all those sappy movies that have little to do with real life. Do things for others.  Pray for guidance and understanding. Smile as much as we can because the act itself, even if forced, realigns your face and emotions. Finally,  realize that it is only a month and a week before it is over.

 

 

Schoolroom Teachings

With sure lipped bravado
he jet-sends his jeers
to ears waiting, knowing
expecting those words to come,
a fine dance of discontent
within the classroom walls.

Listless teacher, burned out
from too man kids and too many years
crying out for silence
to deaf ears, churning minds,
squirming bodies.  A Saint
might be able to achieve, but
one who hides beneath cover
of smile, whose eyes reflect out,
carrying no inner workings
the poor children carry the
hidden legacy of a broken system.

To look at the children,
the ones who care, yet are not
closed to the outer world,
their bodies retreat into themselves
curled up in a concave impression
of distancing, of
protecting the heart and mind,
placing all extremities out front,
to give the illusion of active attention,
so a measure of safety is gained.
Their eyes wells of sadness.

We witness in silent horror
as our children slowly
are divested of their gifts,
stripped bare of courage and strength,
rendered helpless in the feudal system,
where teachers are all powerful rulers,
infesting the masses with
their brand of corruption.

And, in the corner
facing a stark wall,
eyes turned away from the maelstrom
a boy draws mazes,
over and over again,
seeking his way out.