Appointment

Appointment

A wisp of stardust
drifted as seeming detritus
cast from the Sculptor’s masterpiece
of suns, planets and meteors
until this cirrus of infinitesimal iridescence
merged with your aura
imbued with ancient hues
that map the destiny of kings and prophets.

Welcome, child.

 

Tomorrow, February 7, is the fourth birthday of grandson Rocco Bonifacio Senelly.  He shall be embarking on his fifth year on this planet.  Happy birthday, dear one.

Around the Bend

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Come with me to a place
just around the bend

Where an old oak bides her time
though she is cold, wrinkled and bare

She obeys winter’s command
of silent anticipation of another time

She longs for the company of he
whose name is whispered in the winds
and carved in her soul
and imbued in roots secured by earth

Come with me to a place
where your kindred spirit awaits you

 

For Richard on Valentines Day 2019

Photograph taken by Richard on a trail run near our home

Patriot, Your Voice is Heard

Patriot Your Voice is Heard

They descended, swarmed
gathered, linked arms
chanted, shouted
the single voice of multitudes

Homemade guardians
obeyed a primal directive
to protect the babies
to preserve family dignity

Homemade warriors
fighting for brown children
against cages and cruelty
against the white whims of insanity

Homemade activists
defending America’s future
from repeating acts of evil and hate
from a legacy of future despair

This is Bonnie, my friend, neighbor and colleague.  She flew from our comfortable Town of Trophy Club, Texas, to fight for our nation’s heart in Washington D.C. in the Families Belong Together march.  Thank you, Bonnie.

Time Traveler Eyes

Eyes of a Time Traveler

Child, you still see through eyes
unobstructed by experiences
of failures and hopelessness
of people lost and love betrayed

Your eyes shall witness a future
that Time herself has yet to conjure
as divinity and humanity wage war
to protect the heights and depths of Life itself

A Time . . .

of countries sundered by evil despots
of inventions that unify global families

of weapons perfected for genocide
of medicines that promise immortality

of streams, glaciers, birds sacrificed by human greed
of Mother Earth embracing warriors who protect Her domain

of portending words of gloom spewed from costly pulpits
of whispers of faith and goodness by those pure of heart

of demons who worship banners of religion and nation
of saints who fight for justice, protection, righteousness

Child, allow me to join your sojourn to the future
for just a Time and a half a Time
to share with you my crumbs of crusty wisdom
to see visions of promise through your eyes

For grandson Roman.  Inspired by his mother’s (Megan) keen photographer eyes.

Just One Question

One Question

I will not ask you to free me from these cages
For Papa told me America is the land of the free
And when you learn my parents do not steal or kill
You will set my family free.

I will not ask you to protect me
For Mama said that Americans love their children so much
that you give them all the food, clothes and toys they want
and someday you will come to love me.

I will not ask you to show me mercy
For Padre told us that Americans love God so much
That they build big buildings to worship and prove
that they love the way Christo loves us.

But I must ask you.
When I finally receive asylum in your country
and I become friends with your sons and daughters,
Will you invite me to your house?

The Bane of Pele

Pele3How she longs for the deep slumber of eons past
so she can dream of a simpler existence
when she swam in the cool waters of a lake of her creation
whose green waters merged Pacific Ocean brine
with rainwater swirling in earthen veins deep in the island belly.

Where she emerges refreshed and baptized yet again,
her raven hair flowing over her wide shoulders and draping her brown breasts
her flesh caressed by cool tradewinds whispering her name.
Pele.

But she could no sooner retreat behind this memory
than she could delay the birth of this child
conceived by a fiery seed before time was invented
when there was yet no one to worship the gods
whose only destiny was to shape all that was forthcoming.

No doula was present to relieve the cadence of her quickening.
And though she has birthed many, she is not prepared for this new one.
Its strength and persistence demand existence
with a greedy hunger for all in its path.

Her guttural moans spew fire and rock and ash and vapor.
Her contractions cause deep fissures in the earth’s crusty skin.
The heat of her pains scorch villages and forests.
Her precious lake evaporates when she exhales in fury.
Her sweat steams the sea.

Yet even as she begs the heavens to let this birth be done,
her child continues to come forth and, with impish audacity,
consumes homes and playgrounds of mere humans
and imposes its presence on the ocean most vast.

Photo from U.S. Geological Survey photos on the Kilauea Volcano