April 24, 2025 This comes from a long conversation with one of my students yesterday. He hasn’t been successful in school. He mostly avoids school except for walking in the halls with friends but he says he is ready for something different.

Tiny Bird Finds His Wings

When we met

I would have bet

That you would never talk to me

You had that gaze

That hazy maze

That surrounded your aura

Alone you sat

You turned your back

On anyone who asked you a question

It has been over a year

You’ve become sincere

In your observations

Yesterday we asked why you stay

And your words began to fray

Spilling out the story

Of former glory

And friends

Now you see a future alone

With no home

No one to rely on

You said you were like a tiny bird

Who got slapped with a cow turd

That was horrible

Covering you up

You felt stuck

Yet warm and comfortable

There in the muck

You accepted your luck

And stayed to die in that filth

Believing that is what you built

And it is hard to see yourself any other way

Staying was a way to pay

Today is a new day

You want us to pull

Help you find full

And know there’s

A place that’s a safe space

Where you’re not encased

You are ready for some other school

Or plan, to help you be a man

 April 22, 2025 A poem to celebrate what I see and imagine from my living room window on this Earth Day. No picture, just use your imagination.

 Sun’s Kiss

Birds twitter announcement

the arrival of the end

of the soft cozy blanket of darkness

Shifts for a slight golden glow

Sliding into oranges and violet pinks

Growing into a far off fire

Outlining a white headed

Old man that hunches over

to raise his lady’s face to his own

as streams of the coming

Day shoot laser eyes

Through tall trees

Stretching their arms

Up to hold the cotton candy clouds

As a garland on a young lady’s head

who sits at the old man’s feet

she is ready to dance

into a day that invites her

with the rising light

as a doe waits and listens

for her cue to lead

her fawn to forage

on the forest floor

tilting her head

to see the last visible star

faintly blink as morning

pulls off the cover of night

 April 20, 2025 Even when wrestling emotionally, this I know. Christ has risen!

Easter Declaration

Death that leads to life

Sounds out of place

Causes strife

Those that believe

Do so not to achieve

Said everlasting

That is the last thing

On One’s minds

We pine for closeness

where most is

Far in the distance

The thing is

We come today

To celebrate and say

Christ is risen!

No cynicism

We step into the light

From the darkest night

To be freed

Because he is risen indeed!

 

Worthy Witnesses

The women witnessed

Something extraordinary

But it was declared unlikely

Until the men agreed

Seeing for themselves

But Jesus knew

Who he wanted to see first

Those who would otherwise

Be told last

He came back

The angel said he was not there

They immediately mourned

And he appeared

To comfort the comfortless

He told them to tell the disciples

Knowing they would not be listened to

Yet they spoke their truth

Aware of the distrust

Of their words alone

Witnessing the remarkable

When no one else has seen it

There is no physical evidence

It is an act of love and bravery

To give a voice

When outnumbered

Or the lowest class

To bear witness

Of miracles

 April 19, 2025 Yes, I skipped another night last night. I spent all day out in the garden working hard. I just had no steam or thoughts when I came in and settled. I was still full of thoughts and empty at the same time, I'm wanting another week off but grateful for this spring break with no agenda.

 

Garden Plot

Stepping past my thought

To observe the look

Of what is, compared to

What might have been

A well-worn path

That dissipates

As I stretch my fingers

In rich earth

It is a plan

Of what can be planted

To grow best

Next to whom

And this spring’s risk

As to weather

Will come as predicted

What can I control

As to the seeds

Dropped one by one

Next to something beneficial

Or planted near what plant

Will attract or repel

The good and bad bugs

That give a better chance

Of these young seedlings

To make it to yield time

I envy other gardens

The ease with which they appear

Or function giving forth

Multiple tastes

Youth to adulthood

No drama or struggle

Plants deep rooted

Turning faces to the sun

Delicious beauties

Because they were planted

In the right spot

With all the advantages

Of a well-planned garden

 

April 17, 2025 I saw Raisin in the Sun for the first time tonight at Taproot Theatre. It is a strong ensemble cast that performs it. It is a play I’d studied twice in school. Hearing the language and seeing the story unfold was powerful. It sparked a discussion in my family among all the powerful themes and then
about language and what came from slavery to then and what replaced it. I tried to put this into a poem.

 

Sunburnt Raisin Plumps Again

“Pick it up, boy!”

“How you doing, man?”

The one phrase

Influences another

For generations

The knife is plunged

While reclaimers pull it out

Demeaned calling grown men boys

To grind under foot

The essence of what they are

Racism with a low growl

scratches at the surface

survivalist reach out

a shaking hand

to pet the head

of such a beast

taming it with

grown up names

turned inside out

of the insults

till they tickle

and matter to no one

as they have become

a greeting among us

those that live

life on thier own terms

 April 16, 2025

Remorse’s Map

Remorse weighs down

The good we feel by day

The regret we hear in the night

It sings a tune

That imitates a cackling crow

Who wants more than he is entitled to

Then it pulls tight, snug

Where we can finally feel

Safe enough to let go

And sleep the slumber of the innocent

The burden slips away

Under the swift current

Of unconditional acceptance

Overall, dropping our mistake

Forgiveness washes it all away

 April 15, 2025 The poem tonight is probably only for me as I needed to write but not say things outright. The second is to say that my garden has been my refuge today.

 Hurricane “A”

I woke up crying

Though the event was past

It lives in me

I am marked

Not for what was

What came near

Who is dear

And my fear

It all piles on top

Jumping vigorously

Till I cannot breathe

And I seethe, angry

There is little relief

When an incident

Leaves marks

More scars

It is a webbed map

That spiders out

Showing the shame

The hidden plaque

On our backs

Carves out a label for one

Something of a sentence for another

Neither quite correct

almost always there

Me laid bare

I sob and complain

Wanting some other name

I wait for something different

As I hate this game

I feel dishonored, stained

Yet I know, love bears all things

It is the glue between us

We mustn’t give up

I know you suffer too

Constant image stew

Boiling in your brain

Making emotions rain

Melting our bond

In an instant

That sears us both

Sobs fill the mote

Between us

As we fall into each other’s arms

Past the scary harms

Crying won’t last

Love has a chance

 

Gardening Between Darkness and Light

In the twilight,

I can just make out your shape

I hear you as I scrape the earth

Exposing the roots to breathe

Running my fingers through

to separate them from the dirt

I listen as you go from local events

To world leaders, what they know

I dig to the rhythm of your facts

Planting long rows

Clearing weeds

Filling sacks

You continue to talk

As the cool dirt

Puts me at ease