The surgeon, delicately tracing through time and place, where parting became religious embracing…
He sits on a river bank somewhere, not seeing the difference in the river bank he sat on from miles away, seeing the same sunset and sunrise.
Maybe the bluebird in my chest went there too. Then, as if its wings of flight caught my soul, I felt a flutter in my chest again.
I, on horseback, ran into it – as it, with its dark foreboding message, surrounded me. It was after me, it wanted desperately to take me.
We, like fabric as one, as the stage is set and the actors prepare for their final acts.
I find myself holding on to that lemon seed, caressing it with love as if to make the evil leave, and then my soul speaks to listening ears within me and I know the walk’s going to be next to a grand plot of trees, all with hanging lemons and each without lemon seeds.
How could you tell a child that discrimination has sides, that the Nazi flag flown in Charlottesville, Virgina had sides. So wrong, so very wrong. You and I, me and you, we are also Hebrew – you should feel that in your soul’s fire, deep within where God lives in us all. I am begging you, hear him too.
The unscratched newness of possible…caressing night lights, haven’t left the house, they sat there at the bottom of that dress…waiting…for the demanding dress.
The singers crying over words they know too well, that make sense of life and the “if only I’d remembered to listen a little longer…”