Juxtaposed

My heart is pierced once again. For Orlando. For the LGBT community. For Muslims who will be demonized. For all groups who are targets of hate. 

             

I wrote this poem before Orlando. Before the shooting of Christina Grimmie. I was not planning to share it. I wrote this as a way of processing a book called "Collapsing Consciously: Transformative Truths for a Turbulent Times," by Carolyn Baker Ph.D.  The question in the following poem comes directly from Baker; I love its profound simplicity. All peoples, all things have a gift carried in the soul; let's open our eyes and hearts to help each other uncover the gifts, and raise all coming generations to restore rather than destroy.  It is with this longing, I share....

Juxtaposed

What is the gift you carry in your soul? I asked the marbled Sycamore. Her outstretched arm caressed my field of vision - an embrace of beauty.   

What is the gift you carry in your soul?  I asked the forest, and the canopy swayed in dance.

What is the gift you carry in your soul? I asked the sun, and immediately his heart shattered in dappled light.

What is the gift you carry in your soul? I asked myself. My body stilled, listened.

What is the gift you carry in your soul, said I, to the rocks who answered with silence. In the distance an owl hooted, dusky and prophetic.

What is the gift you carry in your soul? I asked the child. He took my hand and led me to wildflowers.

Meanwhile the earth shook with the sound of machines leveling mountains.  With the sound of guns leveling people.

The sky darkened. Ash fell.

A cello mourned.

Now, 

a blue jay screams, “My territory!”  As does a soldier. And a rapist standing over an unconscious form.

While the last coal glows red in twilight,

this child, this seedling of promise with darling eyes and tender heart,

         this child and I suck sweet nectar from honeysuckles,

and hold hands.