Lions and Lambs: A Daydream of Peace

Nine soldiers among the burning pines
Sing songs of war to bring terror to the terrorized
In occupied territory in retaliatory mode
Which bodes ill for the already-oppressed
Possessed by fear and crying tears for mercy;
But the nine are suddenly cut off from their unit
And hit by the sudden realization
That they cannot return to their civilization,
And they are surrounded now by the sounds
Of the persecuted, who move slowly in wonder
While the soldiers blunder here and there
Pointing their rifles round about determined
To fight before they die . . . but their guns jam!
And they cannot so much as telegram for any help!
Suddenly seized with fear they hear the mumbling
Of the crowd of “enemies” now gathered round
And believe they are bound
To be beaten and eaten alive . . .
But one child, meek and mild, steps forward
With flask of water in hand and stretches it forward
Toward one of the soldiers saying, “Take, drink . . .”
And the soldier knows not what to think;
All nine are shocked that they are not even mocked;
No, but one by one the oppressed step forward
With open arms . . . “How may we help you, children?”
They intend no harm and the nine no longer alarmed;
In that instance, the lambs save the lions
With no shame pretense, only genuine peace . . .
Only genuine love and peace . . .
Could it be so? Oh God, make it so, make it so!

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Love Herself Will Damn

Caught in their own web,
Brought low by their own one blow,
One grand show of greed

. . .

Tis nice to be nice,
Ah! but they are cold as ice,
Charity one slice

. . .

Heavy hand of God,
And truth comes forth to demand,
Love herself will damn!

Blessed be the Poor

Do you know what it is to beg for bread?
Do you know the dread of not being fed?
Have you ever had to hang your head?
Have you ever felt the need to plead?
And have you ever been misled,
Given stones in place of bread?
It’s not easy and makes you very queasy;
Some people quickly think you’re sleazy!
Oh, but to be turned down with a frown,
Especially after you’ve helped so many,
Giving a twenty when you had plenty –
Or even when you barely had a penny –
It makes you sick, like a kick in the gut!
When you yourself fall into a rut,
You’re mistreated like filthy smut;
Even your temple-church cuts you;
No more wanted; no more needed;
They have nothing to give for you to live!
Tell me, do you know the dread
Of begging for merely bread?
To be in need of even a few small seeds?
. . .
‘Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’

Puch Hole in the Darkness

Why so sad and forlorn, when you were born to be a charm;
Born to be the arm of encouragement for others bothered
By so many alarms and the bells of hell; to speak peace,
And increase joy and confidence, for every boy and girl,
And to hurl away the bite of fright, pestilence of night,
And wraith of day, never to stay, but quick-leave forever
And ne’er return to burn spirits of the innocent so bent
Down by burdens of care, ready to drown in sea of dismay;
Yet here you are to show another way to much brighter day;
Why forlorn, then, as if there’s no reason you were born?
Have not each one of us some serious reason ne’er to fuss?
Have not each one of us some purpose in this circus of life?
Have not each one of us some reason from season to season?
Grow not weary, but show this dreary world very clearly
Your meaning in being who and what you are, like shining star
That you are, and were always meant to be, ere you were sent
From womb of heaven, bright shining, to be one more light…
Candle unhidden; put atop pole to punch a hole in the darkness!

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Note: Originally published in September 2015, this poem is an encouragement to never give in to the darkness that so often surrounds us, as well as an inspiring reminder that we have infinite worth, value and purpose.

As the Cold Wind Blows. . .

As the cold wind blows and far flies the snow
For winter’s grand freezing show, do we know
How the blood slows for so many in low places,
Without blankets, socks, coats or moccasins
As they sleep on blocks of ice? Isn’t it nice
To have warm home, safe from storm of chill,
With the thrill of toasting our toes by the
Crackling fire; many are ready for funeral pyre.
Do you know the show’s not so grand for band
Of wandering poor, who see only death in store?
Perhaps, then, we could spare some few layers
To save lives, rather than being thick knaves?

After all, what is in store for those who ignore the poor?
Surely there’s a place to show your face and donate, too?

Ma’at and the Pyramid of Truth, Part III

Cars sped down Main Street, leaving rubber scars on asphalt wearing under the tearing of the inexplicable race of people who had no ability, or sense, to better pace themselves for the sake of their own health and well-being, apparently not seeing the destruction of such flurry and hurry upon themselves as well as others. Ma’at leaned close as she screened the pointless madness and carefully preened her boy-love appropriately for such reckless scene.

She, too, was dressed for the time and scene, and I was no less impressed. Ma’at was overwhelming in magnificence with no need for extravagance nor any grandiloquence; she could simple be and anyone could clearly see her stunning beauty. “Ah, look!” She pointed to an elderly Greek priest, so obviously humble and meek. “Theophilus, venerable Theophilus! Old now but never cold; his name means ‘lover of God,’ and thus his claim to local fame, but he could just as well be named Faroqh, meaning ‘truth,’ for above all he loves Dyēus of truth and love, yet in all truth Theophilus loves love above all, for truth and love call to one another, and bind themselves together in unbreakable bond in Dyēus. And so this is Theophilus, truly heaven-sent, now bent with age, this wizened sage.”

Walking deliberately with careful gait, Father Theophilus did not long wait at the thick-wooden, double doors to step inside onto sheen marble floor of the gold-domed building with sharp cross atop that seemed to prop the very sky. “Yes, my pup, you would do well to drink of his cup, for he learned long ago to walk the Noble Path in sacred silence, with talk of only what is sound and pure, profound and sure. But in learning the burning pain of this world, he was enlightened to the truth that these clouds of pain are what give rain of joy.”

She wove her arm in my arm, and talked while we walked. “And in dispossessing himself of all, he found himself in possession of all, and so in dying to the lying of worldly pleasure, he was reborn to adorn the world with heavenly treasure. And so in him death took its last breath, which freed him from the endless cycle of futility to live forever in happy humility, and more, to live to give grace in every case and place to every face. In this, he travelled further along the Noble Road toward celestial abode, though Buddha of long ago, flowed freely, and showed in his day the higher way, and glowed with radiance without variance of truth.” We continued walking down the side walk, bustling with people hustling here and there and everywhere but seemingly nowhere, past a pair of drunks sharing a park bench with stench of alcohol.  “There is trouble everywhere; you don’t live in a bubble… What would Lao Tzu do here and now, and how?” Question. Hesitation.

“Did not Maftet show you the tower built for power, sitting in the blow of snow and ice, place of all evil and vice?” I nodded. “Look around you; here is a profusion of towers of confusion, and what would Jesú say today? The might of light penetrates the darkness, which cannot harness its brightness. And for all the people scurrying and hurrying in and out, about their business worries, those buildings loom large in the city like empty tombs. But watch! There is an intricate nautch of goodness, flowing throughout the frenzied madness, celestial dance envied by angels. The old woman selling her flowers is herself a tower of joy, and the boy with the papers, too. The middle-aged man opening his bistro is a veritable maestro of  generosity and honesty, as well as the street sweep, who keeps in his heart more gold than the old banks along these streets so replete with greed. And look at the little girl meeting the need of the homeless man; she’s not rich like the bitch passing by with irritated sigh. That small angel is giving in silence her whole allowance today, what she was going to use to pay for a tea-party tray. She comes from a healthy family, though by no means wealthy. She simply loves and gives because that’s how she’s been taught to live, brought up in the way of virtue from day to day.”

Ma’at turned me to the right, holding me tight. “And look there at the precious boy with golden hair. They call him cripple, but I tell you he stands tall and walks through life with longer strides, stronger than most anyone with legs that hurry and scurry. He has no money at all to give, like the angel-girl, but he can hurl more treasure from the depth of his soul with pleasure, blessing all life around, even the least of beast, with yeast of kindness and hope, mildness and wide scope of happiness that drives away all loneliness.” Her eyes were sparkling and dancing as she turned me to face her again. “You see! Don’t be so sad! Yes, there is bad in the world and you see it abound all around you, but if you’re not careful you’ll miss the bliss of heaven that leavens even this district that evil would otherwise constrict. Look around you, and you’ll see goodness in bloom and plenty of room for more; only open the door of your heart, my love, and let it flow like a river of silver and gold of untold worth … all you were given from birth.”

One long, strong kiss and … home again.

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Note: First image from http://www.pixshark.com; second image from awakeningthegoddesswithin.net

Breaking Down the Walls, Part II

You. Who are you? And when they say ‘you,’
Is it You they’re really speaking to?
Or the silly, vacant ‘you’ that’s not true
To You as the ‘I’ you are, so far removed
From the vacuous him or her leaking words
In empty speaking, so impersonal, because
You are different, aberrant, indurate …
But ‘they’ made the ‘I’ you are the scar
That scares them into distant uncaring,
Wearing fake smile while malice bearing,
Tearing you asunder, while they blunder
Through theology, etiology, skewed biology
In endless tautology of doctrinal calumny
From their twisted psychology, and so they
Never really know you as the genuine ‘You’
True to who God made from sod and Spirit,
Not flawed, but an art that awed all angels,
While creation sang and heavenly music rang
At you, the new ‘I’ that Eye saw and smiled,
New child, unique and sweet and mild; but
Who beguiled you into hiding the ‘I’ you
You are ~ bright star, radiating so far ~
When you live in charity, pine for clarity
And truth, spirit youth; in loving dedication
In union and communion with Lord and companion;
To spread your board with feast for the least
Of sisters and brothers, fathers and mothers?
More walls to tear down, or drown under frown
Of condemnation, though you live like Jesus
Who frees us; no more stalling at the walling!
Time for the ‘I’ you are to be You ever true
For them to clear-see and know, but ne’er again
To be just another sick brick separating you
From the world around, bounded in sheer fear;
Time for liberty from captivity; for every ‘I’
To be a ‘you’ to you, for you to be You, too!

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Breaking Down the Walls

Angry screams and loud shouts, terrible dreams and painful bouts;
Killing looks thru piercing eyes, filling lives like hatred hives;
Hungry hearts tear apart, push the cart of division in derision
Of all charity from lack of clarity because of fear so near soul,
And we do not hear our own doom that looms on ever-close horizon;
And we dizen our skin and bones, wizened by page of age, not sage
Of wisdom of kingdom coming…
Time to break down the walls! And walk the halls of peace and love
From above! Break down the tall walls of suspicion, contrition,
Competition, admonition, inquisition along pulse-wicked partition
Of false accusation to damnation of all creation; down the wall
Before we fall…

I spy
Butterfly cry
High in blue sky

Makeshift
All too swift
Reject angel gift

Break down the walls that stall, bring us to crawl and heavy-bawl
For broken hearts and shattered lives,
Better parts sliced by steel-sharp knives;
Arise! Reach across the span and grab the hand; join earthen band
Of dust and sand; arm in arm, dispel all harm with heavenly charm,
Break down the walls of division, soul collision, and deprivation;
We are one under the sun, having begun common life without strife,
And we can return from the burn of hell with holy wedding bells
Of renewed unity of sacred community, an opportunity with impunity!
In the recesses of our collective memory, before excesses of pride,
We remember more placid stride, without oppression, suppression,
Repression, no need for confession; in recollection, no possession…

I cry
To high fly
In brighter sky

Wall
Cracking tall
Much ready to fall

We’re breaking down the walls, breaking down the walls, breaking down the walls…

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World in Harmony: Can We Do This?

Can we find common ground upon which to stand, to work toward harmony and peace in this world? Can we do so without compromising dearly held beliefs and convictions? Yes, I do believe so; in fact, I earnestly believe we share more common ground spiritually and religiously than many of us might imagine. I believe we can stand on this common grounds, lock arms, and with determination move forward, and all without ceasing to be who and what we are in heart, mind and soul. And this begins with an appropriate prayer:

Then did I recognize you in mind, to be the first and the last, O Lord, Progenitor of good thought, when I apprehended you in my the eye of my soul: True creator of all that is right, the Lord over the proceedings of life![1] And so it is that you are gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love; good to all, and your compassion is over all that you have made.[2]

The Lord is Cherisher of all Worlds – who created us, and it is God who guides us; who gives us food and drink, and when we are ill, it is he who cures us; who will cause us to die, and then to live again; and who, we have reason to hope, will forgive us our faults on the Day of Judgment.[3] Yes, but this self-same God of all says in majestic mystery:

I have no corporeal existence, but Universal Benevolence is my divine body. I have no physical power, but Uprightness is my strength. I have no religious clairvoyance beyond what is bestowed by Wisdom. I have no power of miracle other than the attainment of quiet happiness. I have no tact except the exercise of gentleness. [4]

God is love.[5] God is beautiful and loves beauty.[6] God is All-gentle to God’s servants, providing for whomsoever God will.[7] And so it is God says, “To love is to know me, my innermost nature, and the truth that I am.” [8] The Tao is immortal, the mysterious fertile mother of us all, of heaven and earth, of everything and not-thing; invisible yet ever-present, you can enjoy her forever without exhausting her.[9]

God says, “I am mother and father of the world.”[10] And so we say, “You are father, mother, friend, and brother. With you as nurturer in all places, what have we to fear?”[11] We cry aloud:

O Mother of the world and humanity, advocate for the whole world! What a remarkable Mother we have! O Mother, a pillar, a refuge! O Mother, to whom all prostrate in greeting before one enters her habitation! We are justly proud of our Mother. O Mother who arrives, who arrives majestic and offers water to all![12] That breast of yours, which is inexhaustible, health-giving, by which you nurse all that is noble, containing treasure, bearing wealth, bestowed freely; lay that bare, divine Mother, for our nurture![13]

Indeed, we are the children of the Lord our God;[14] for all humans are God’s children, and those dearest to God are those who treat his children kindly.[15] For God, people of the whole world are all children of God, and so all of us equally must understand that God is our Parent.[16] So, too, all of us under the heavens; we must regard heaven as our father, earth as our mother, and all things as our brothers and sisters![17]

And so this is how we are to live: Whatever you wish that people would do to you, do so to them.[18] A woman should wander about treating all creatures as she herself would be treated.[19] Indeed, try your best to treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself, and you will find that this is the shortest way to benevolence.[20] Comparing oneself to others in such terms as “just as I am so are they; just as they are so am I;” he should neither kill nor cause others to kill.[21] This simply means, one should not behave towards others in a way which is disagreeable to oneself. This is the essence of morality. All other activities are due to selfish desire.[22]

Is this really so difficult? Beloved, let us love one another; for love is of God, and he who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God; for God is love. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and God’s love is perfected in us. By this we know that we abide in God and God in us, because the Everlasting One has given us the very Spirit of life and love. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and she who fears is not perfected in love. We love, because God first loved us. If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his sister or brother, he is a liar; for she who does not love her brother or sister whom she has seen, cannot love God whom she has not seen.[23]

Have benevolence towards all living beings, joy at the sight of the virtuous, compassion and sympathy for the afflicted, and tolerance towards the indolent and ill-behaved.[24] Ah! Then that do we choose, O Lord of Wisdom, O beautiful Truth, that do we think, do we speak, and do we practice, which shall be best of the actions of living ones for both worlds![25] For to the addict, nothing is like his dope; to the fish, nothing is like water; but those immersed in the love of God feel love for all things.[26]

Amen and Amen. So let it be, Everlasting and Most Benevolent One!

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[1] Zoroastrianism. Avesta, Yasna 31.8

[2] Psalm 145.8-9 (Hebrew Scriptures)

[3] Qur’an 26.77-82

[4] Shinto. Oracle of the Kami of Sumiyoshi

[5] I Epistle of St. John 4.8 (Christianity)

[6] Hadith of Muslim (Islam)

[7] Qur’an 42.19

[8] Bhagavad Gita 18.55 (Hinduism)

[9] Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching 6

[10] Bhagavad Gita 9.17 (Hinduism)

[11] Adi Granth, Majh M.5, p. 103 (Sikhism)

[12] Yoruba Prayer of Nigeria (African Traditional Religion)

[13] Rig Veda 1.164.49 (Hinduism)

[14] Deuteronomy 14.1 (Hebrew Scripture)

[15] Hadith of Baihaqi (Islam)

[16] Tenrikyo. Ofudesaki IV.79

[17] Oracle of the Kami of Atsuta (Shinto)

[18] Gospel of St. Matthew 7.12 (Christianity)

[19] Sutrakritanga 1.11.33 (Jainism)

[20] Mencius VII.A.4 (Confucianism)

[21] Sutta Nipata 705 (Buddhism)

[22] Mahabharata, Anusasana Parva 113.8 (Hinduism)

[23] I Epistle of St. John 4.7-8, 12-13, 18-20 (Christianity)

[24] Tattvarthasutra 7.11 (Jainism)

[25] Avesta, Yasna 35.3 (Zoroastrianism)

[26] Adi Granth, Wadhans, M.1, p. 557 (Sikhism)

Soiled, Maybe, but You’re Too Clean!

You’re out!
Out of line and off the mark,
Out in left field, off the track!
You’re out!
Out of your mind,
Turned from your kind,
And now you’re blind!

Ah! And all because I’ve embraced my mothering God, who is father as well? All because I honor the woman as equally as the man? All because I care for the poor and downtrodden as much as I care for defending our country? The best defense we can build for our country is to build up the people who make up our country. Is this out of line and off track?

Yes, you’ve turned;
In everlasting hell to be burned!
No ideology as yours so pale,
No god ere some fragile female!
No poor but made themselves poor,
Nothing to do but shut the door!
Yes, you’ve turned!

Oh! And am I so pitiful to cling to mighty Deborah? To Jael and Joan of Arc? So weak to love earth and sky, bird and field as brother, like unto Brother Francis of Assisi? Sick in heart and mind all for love of the downtrodden oppressed, repressed and possessed of hunger and wasting ill, like Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Gautama Buddha, Mohandas Gandhi, and the Reverend Doctor King?

Yes, you’re out!
Out far from your life-way,
Out to your kindred betray!
Yes, you’re out!
Out in revolutionary field,
Out with radical battle shield!
Yes, you’re out!

Ugh! You make me sick with your thick lies and heavy sighs! Am I following not in the footsteps of One who turned our world upside down and inside out? One who was nailed to wood by politics and religion for being so radical? Have I turned away from the lonely, poor and destitute he came to save? Left behind the love of the God who is Love? No! I may be soiled, but … you’re too clean!

https://www.change.org/p/raise-the-federal-poverty-level-fpl?recruiter=47928834&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink

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