-
·
The Dream of GOD, a Nightmare of Privilege
[bctt tweet=”A poem for King, justice, and repentance. #ReclaimMLK” nofollow=”yes”] When we speak of a dream, we speak not of the hazy sleep indulgence, the phantasm of our psyche, but the very call of GOD to make this world radically different from the way it is. The dream, a tricky encounter of revelation. Assaults our…
-
·
Optimistic
I have the most optimistic friends. Despite all evidence to the contrary, they believe that so much is possible! It’s inspiring, truly. I’m not sure how. Every time, they just keep believing: cutting taxes will make them wealthier moving will make them happier keeping out refugees will make them safer money can fix their problems…
-
·
The Storm
The enemy isn’t out there. And I don’t think the enemy is in here. {points to chest} The enemy is the darkness. The evil that overcomes humanity and subsumes our will. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness,…
-
·
Aylan and the Others
I didn’t think of him (maybe I did). More like I tried not to think of how small he once was. But his wasn’t the first I saw, the first, “chilling” she called it, I couldn’t take. It was of a boy on his back, shirt below his chin like when he shows his belly…
-
·
Our Pentecost
While we wait for Superman and our friends build bomb shelters a low thunder rumbles, proving our certainty justified. The forecast calls for rain: 100%. The cloud with the lightening bolt flying out comically warns us: an image so innocent and besides, we’ve been through storms. We know what to expect. We wait. The only…
-
·
The nuisance of divine planting
I fight the grass, forcing its way up through cracks in the sidewalk and driveway like an OCD sentry, defending the palace from natural invasion – grass our persistent interloper. My right thumb, the out side of the pointer, just below the tip, begin to ache, like I’ve been writing with a flat pencil. The outer…
-
·
A Poem for Freddie Gray, Baltimore, and all of us
GUILT When the preacher said “I’m absolutely convinced that a riot merely intensifies the fears of the white community while relieving the guilt.” My white ears hear the condemnation and the righteous call for peace. My poet ears hear the economy of language and concern. My pastor ears hear the prophetic reminding us our guilt…
