My Hidden Creed

My words are repeating – a chant a prayer rises to the surface – hidden words form
Yet I can’t make them coalesce, cant make them ring like the sound in my skin

How can I bring this fire to the surface of the water? Make the. sounds ring out like
In my dreams, and the beating of my heart, and the pulsing in my head?
Doesn’t it seem to be more than coincidence? Doesn’t it seem to live under my skin?
Don’t these vowels and consonants, these silent letters, seem to form words?
Each of us seem to have these words, these pictures, these melodies, which we are
Not able to free, not able to voice, but they burn our skin and urge us on: “try again”

Can they rise to the surface through purification, repetition, distillation?
Refining them like gold: burning over, and over, and over again? And
Each time they’re brighter, they’re stronger, they’re more clear
Every poem and song, every square of cloth, every sermon and painting
Digs deeper delivering those burning words out of skin and water and into the light

In Your Eyes

When I look in your eyes, I cannot fathom what I see
How you look back at me with whole-hearted want
Even when I am annoying, or broken, or distracted 
Never once have I seen your eyes without that shine

Your face is transformed when you lay eyes
On me: a certainty, a hopeful hopelessness burns 
Under the surface, hypnotizing me

Like sunlight piercing darkness it
Opens in the dark depths 
Of your ebony eyes, the sunbeams
Kissing the glassy surface

I cannot grow tired of the sight of you
Never have I, never will I

My heart pounds in my chest and I
Yearn to reach out and touch that light

Each time I murmur how lovely it is
You respond that I look the same way
Endlessly adoring, and lost, and gone on you
Still all that I did was to look in your eyes…

Sunflower Thoughts – 01

It’s true I couldn’t always follow you.

I didn’t always stand next to you, or speak to you,

as you traveled a path so far out of my reach.

Rather, like a young sunflower on a cloudy day,

I turned my face to where I knew you would be,

so that if for a moment the clouds parted,

I would be sure to catch the light that you gave.

Someday Someday

Someday you will look back, and then you will see

that the accidents were the only things that had a plan

that the questions were the only thing that made sense

That the things you almost missed made the biggest difference

That the worst and best were always the same things

And that when you were paying yourself no attention

Someone was always watching over you.

Let There Be War

And God said ‘Let There Be Light’
And God said ‘It Is Good.’
And God said ‘Let There Be.’

And man said ‘Not yet. Let it be night again, night and then no one will see. Let me say ‘it is not good’. Let me hate and destroy. Let there be me, or Let There Not Be.’


And the stones said ‘Enough… let me out of your hands. Do not use me to hit them, and crush other men. Enough, let me again just be part of the lands. They have suffered enough just for rocks, just for stones. It’s enough, for God’s sake… just leave them alone.’

And man said, ‘No not yet. I still want to hit. They are not ‘us’ but ‘them’. They deserve to be struck, and struck, again, and again, and again, and again.’


Said the rivers, ‘I am meant to be clear – to run free – do not paint me with blood, and these bodies of mud, I am meant not to be read, I am meant to be clean. Please,’ they said, ‘don’t lat them in my bed to die, I… I am only a river, and even I see… that the men and the women you’re feeding to me… they all drown the same… don’t you see? they can’t breathe… I am water – don’t bury your children in me.’

And man said ‘No: Let them gasp, let them bleed. I don’t want them or need them, so drink them for me. I want – badly want – to make fish of these men. I will get them, and grill them, and drown them again. I am a holy fire, so river obey: do what I say. Drink the blood of these ‘others’: erase who they’ve been. Drink the sons, brothers, mothers, and never run clean.’


And the fields cried ‘I am not your burial grounds. Return to your living, your homes, valleys, towns. Return to the dead to their lives if you can: don’t depend on this land, don’t make me swallow the dead of man. I am not that kind of land. I am meant to grow food. I am not meant to be a traitor to the plants that are growing in me. I am pregnant with your dead, with your lost, with the blood of your rage. I am too young, and too old, and like them: I won’t age. So take back the bodies you’re throwing to me. Let it be enough. I thought you were just dust… why is it you cannot be dust like me? Why is it that nothing can grow in you until I am slowing you and teaching you how? You have fed me enough. Please… please… you can stop now. You’ll be dust anyway. Why make them dust today?’

And man said ‘No: dust to dust, to dust, to dust. I will love only weapons of rust. I will love only ‘us’. I do not need the men I feed to you, oh you fields. It’s there fault that they didn’t know when to yield, and throw down their shield, and give up their seals, and run from the field. So drink them, eat them, ‘us’ defeat ‘them’. It is not enough yet: don’t forget that there is still more left behind, throw them into the cleft behind the plants we will eat. We plant them, in you fields. We defeat them, you will eat them, let be planted and their bones be granted a warriors death or they will be forgotten in the heather. Let the flowers bloom red from the blood in their bed. Make them dust, make them dust, make them dust: because ‘they’ were not ‘us’.’


‘It is time,’ said the dawn. ‘Let the new day begin. Let there be no more wars, no more screams in the night. No more shells falling, bombs calling, no more… no more… Learn to forgive. Let me just be a new day… a new way to live…’

And man said ‘No. the old way is fine as it is. Let the bombs fall, the men crawl, the night linger on. Let the dreamers be screamers, let there be no dawn.’


‘I am old,’ said the earth. ‘I have seen, I have been, I have brought from the deep, I have fallen asleep, I have choked on the things that your life has brought me. I am old, I am tired: But I m not done. I am still made of life. I still cling to the sun. I am meant to be healthy. I will heal… I will heal… I will bring back the stones, rivers, mountains, and fields. I will rebuild the world you have torn down so well. I will rebuild a false heaven out of your hell. I will do what you could not. I will forgive. Forgive those who died, forgive those who live, forgive for the future, and nurture, and suture the wounds you have opened all over me, through, under the skin of me. Kin of me: I will forgive. So leave me be. Let there be. I will heal I will mend, then you can fight again. But amen – let it be. Just let me. Just this once: let there be. Let there be, like before.’

And man said ‘No. I won’t wait. So Let There Be War.’


And There Was War.