The sun 

A man was walking from Jerusalem to Jehrico when he was set upon by robbers, who stripped him naked, beat him within an inch of his life, and left him to die on the dusty road to Jehrico, where the walls fell. He might’ve been a good man who beat his wife, or a bad man who was kind to his slaves. All we know is he was naked and dying and alone, on the road to Jehrico.

Then a priest came walking down that same lonesome highway, and saw the man who’d been walking, who was now robbed and naked and beaten and dying. And the priest did the right thing, and passed by, on the far side of the road, for the priest was too holy to risk becoming unclean, on the road to Jehrico.

A Levite soon came upon the beaten, naked, penniless man. The Levite did the right thing, for he wasn’t holy enough to risk becoming unclean. He crossed to the other side of the road, kept his eyes front, and ignored the wounded soul beginning to rot before it had finished dying, on the road to Jehrico.

Then came a Samaritan down the road, and this was bad news for the dying man (who may have been good or bad, and probably had a name). People from Samaria and people from Jerusalem did not get along, they were enemies, plain and simple, and the Samaritan ought to have thanked God for the opportunity to witness an enemy in pain.

What the Samaritan did next was horrible, unbelievable, perhaps damnable. He felt compassion, Jesus said (and who was He to lie?). The Samaritan stopped (can you imagine?) and dressed the dying man’s wounds. The Samaritan wasted good money on oil and wine and hotel rooms, all for an unclean stranger, on the road to Jehrico. And now the Samaritan was unclean as well and a rule-breaker to boot and out all that money he’d wasted.

Time passes. And if you find yourself on that dusty road to Jehrico, and you choose to listen, you will still hear whispers of the dying man and the Bad Samaritan who saved his life.

Grade school children
Early childhood
Most unspoiled, tender
I drink your innocence  

I could lay down
during naptime
Can we all just lay down and rest?
Free of adult contrivances  

You say ‘I’m sorry’ and everyone means it
Feeling gates wide open
If one hurts, all those around
sense it, know it, feel it
 
Carefree joy is contagious
A wellspring of delight
Spend some time there
The reward is sheer grace 

Three teens’ chlorine waves,

met a new pal on the Boardwalk
she was warm-eyed soft skinned & kind
shared my sand bucket shovel & shell i did find
built a sand castle under a red & white umbrella

mom took black & white photos
no colored back then
two little girls
one with the softest black hand

we danced in the waves as they rolled in & out
planted feet in the sand  ~ pretended to go backwards
still standing still

two innocent little girls
funning & sunning at the shore
eye to eye ~ skin to skin ~ black & white
freedom to choose
one softer than me

Every song is still about you.
Can’t listen to our favorites anymore.
I try to move through,
but can’t forget that sweater you wore.

I see you everywhere
never to lay eyes on you again.
I’m just talking to air.
I’ll never know what could have been.

Tell me how to forget you,
to fill this void in my chest.
Just give me a clue.
Would I if I could? I always loved you best.

The forecast for the evening commute looked worse than average
 
so I elected to take an alternate route 
and apparently, so did everyone else

I don’t think I made it home any faster

but I saw a lot of horses
and a pelican flying 

I definitely yelled FUCK 
a lot less than normal

so that’s probably something

Aardvark

What are you?

Are you a creature of the night

Are you a God during the day

The stories and tales written of you says so

All creatures must fear and cower while in your presence

You must be a great and powerful being

You must You Must

You Must stand 20 stories as you look 

down upon all that happen to look upon your brimstone eyes

All creatures must fear and cower while in your presence

Your skin

Your mighty skin

Layers and layers of armor

Where no knife, sword or cannon can

pierce through your armor

All creatures must fear and cower while in your presence

Your wings

Angelic

Bring forth tornadoes and floods for every flap in sky

For villages have praised your name in

protection against these disasters

All creatures must fear and cower while in your presence

Fangs

Marvelous fangs

Protruding from your mouth to form horns

No land or beast can stand a chance against

Your horns

These horns that grow and grow to form a crown

To let all those know that we pray to you

Aardvark

From ancient times to now

You have ruled this land

Even our ancient ones

Who were blind and couldn’t see

Felt your presence

These stories we will pray, fear and remember you by

No Shame Thoughts
Once, I made the mistake of recommending
chicken livers to a boyfriend, and it
cracked our foundation, it sure did. This is
one reason I do not like to color or persuade or
dissuade or have any suade
about anything for anyone…

Oh, Shi*t Thoughts
If I am being honest, I want to sit…think on the differences between…real-life happenings and man-made realities…pretend we are having toasted onion bagels with tomato slices and fresh-squeezed orange juice, ok… that fresh sort of lived-in fanciness is what I love about visiting dirty cities with corner delis… who needs a parking lot when you can step over sidewalk gum and order five different feta salads…you ever think about Jesus, covered in fear, asking his dad for help in that garden…the way it’s told, been passed down…flown through the time zones of morality… you’d think he paused… in some type of spiritual armor…took it like some sort of man…for the good of his flock…for his team’s health…but… I think he was really scared…like in over your head, it’s the 90s, no cell phone, get home or get grounded, scared… I think he wept loudly like we all do when something bad happens…when we have to go on…you know… alone…when we have to decide to keep walking…to do the right thing…with only indigestion and sorrow and the voice of God telling us where the potholes are…..I think about all of it sometimes…usually, a few times a week…

Own It Thoughts
Also, this morning,
when I stood on the porch
braless and barefooted, watching
my Zinnias fight against the high winds,
I admitted to myself that I have never wanted
my enemies or fears to become
the enemies or fear of others just because…
I do not like to live in the Land of Just Because…
too much time is wasted or ill-spent by folks
calling other folks into their just becauseness…
I’m just saying…
The poet, who is serious about The Golden Rule, still bleeds like most people, and willingly accepts all ownership for any embarrassing, unpredictable, nope-not-smart sh*t she has unknowingly caused, stepped in, or forced others to smell without permission. 

All the voices of every generation form a choir
Holding hands in a circle round the foot of a mountain
And they’re a million miles high as they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless

Oh how they climb and they climb
Heeding their own battle cry
Uphill battles all their lives
See them fight see them fight
Oh some will live and some will die
As they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless

All the kind hearts of every generation beat as one
Holding hands in a circle as they stand round the ocean
And they’re a million miles high as they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless

Oh how they climb and they climb
Heeding their own battle cry
Uphill battles all their lives
See them fight see them fight
Oh some will live and some will die As they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless

All the tired feet of every generation step as one
Locking arms as they’re marching to a godforsaken drum
And they’re a million miles high as they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless

Oh how they climb and they climb
Heeding their own battle cry
Uphill battles all their lives
See them fight see them fight
Oh some will live and some will die
As they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless