Crossings

I have felt the mysteries of this age
As the world wanes and I move
Slowly towards some unmarked exit
I see many doors all around leading out
And people filing into lines at these crossings
I wonder to myself at the busyness of it
The time and preparation involved
The singing of hymns and memory of verse
I see the jovial content and gladness
Until another line is noticed
Then the pointing of fingers, the judgment
I stand so far removed from this it is
But a distant vision that I ponder
From where I Am – They do not see
That every door of every choice
Is but revolving – And Me
Finding humor in it All.

Who Holds the World in Place?

All these incarnates of GOD.

Who can see them
Are they not about me like gnarls
That grow and swell and push
Their way into the world

Who can hear them
As they sing their death songs
How fast it seems to approach
Yet it is not at all – this dying
And living are but ONE

Who can feel them
As they pulse and vibrate
Not knowing that it is WE
Who hold the world in place

Mother Earth

The smoke, it fills every particle of space
Turning the blue sky into a pasty ash
It is a blanket dropped upon us on
This, a hot summer’s day
And we are throttled beneath it
I think of the woman who was overburdened with her brood
The one who sent her children rolling into the lake
How taxed she must have been to do this awful thing
And so it happens all the time – by different means
Drowning – Suffocation – Beating
Hurricane – Fire – Pestilence
And I ask myself, who is mimicking who?