Freedom, in Defiance of Bondage

The skin begins
with a breathable, unflinching ability
to grow in space.
Then, in addition to illness,
the hurdle of mortality,
and judgment
based on ignorance.
Acknowledging is resisting,
which for some is to have intimately known an infection of dignity,
a fracture where humanity was crazed into lynching itself,
and to have taken an autopsy of human reason,
of what evolved into and out of imprisonment,
and to have come to the place
(even beyond brokenness, anger, tragedy)
the amazing place
(that after visiting we all want to tell about)
where forgiveness
helped us find our radiance
and freed it.

Ecstasy, in Defiance of Agony

Not stagnancy, but the unremitting agony
of being separated from God
because you are separated
from yourself.
Checked by the realization that God and the Self commune,
which annihilates separation and replaces it
with Ecstatic
Union.

Beauty, in Defiance of Demoralization

The body I was born with begs to differ…
it has Elohim offering every creature
a bouquet of flowers,
a field of flowers,
a planet of flowers

so as to remind us
over
and over
and over again,

how beautiful we are.

Riding the Bus

Ache beautiful.
Flicker Flowers.
Life passes, yes -
Fast and sorrowfully
And the celestial clockworks spin
Above our slowly proceeding vehicle
But for this moment
Briefly -
we are all passengers.

~

Talitha
Cumi
Shhhhhhhh
Haaaaaaaaa
Ssssss
The breath
Ruah
Breathe,
Hear the sounds of your mouth
focus on these.

~

Kaddish, 1939-1945

Brothers! Sisters!
The flames eat skin, the smoke climbs up in puffs
Before it happens we see it happen
Pray me the Kaddish
My mother cries, her face is pain
Pray me the Kaddish
The babies’ bodies- piled in pits
Pray me the Kaddish
Six million of you are marched down to death
Blindfolded, or open eyed
We accept that our family is murdered before us
My mother cries, she cries!
Now you drive your cars and go off to work, and
Stare at electronic screens
Don’t Forget
To look
To know
We have been.
Pray

Pray

Kaddish

~

Fana

(The annihilation into God)

Wading in first,
each palm, extended.

Where the wind, solitary
splits open and pours out
Blood, sap, and milk.
Cupping the hands beneath
the outpouring
the cool, warm
spurts of the gash.

Tree roots grow deep into the wet sand.
Eternity stirs in their marrow.
They fan out their fingers
And brush the red heart of the earth.

The clay is soft but the sun is hot .

Droplets seep into the cloth
The river’s edge laps at the hem.
Water ropes rise 
and weave
around the body
Dancing,
Coursing,
Baptism.

~