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ARTS AND CULTURE

Let love be law

  • 27 November 2017

 

 Selected poems

  

 

Found poem (click image to enlarge)

 

*

 

Did you see the news today? Law failed love. Let love be law.

Did you see the news today? Hospitality failed love. Let love be hospitality.

Did you see the news today? Justice failed love. Let love be justice.

Did you see?

 

*

 

Rest. Lie back. Dwell in your own skin. Made by Me and belonging to Me. Nothing and no one can take that away. What I make, I see, and say that it is good. Nothing knows its purpose but I know its Purpose. Nothing knows its place but I know its Place. Nothing knows itself but I know its Self. You are as you were made to be — no more or less than that. No less Mine for that. Rest. Lie back. Dwell in your own skin.

 

*

 

inside us the dead inside us the dead beckon on, beckon on witnessing, waiting, whispering: 'what will you do?' ... will you do? 'what will you do?' ... will you do? 'you are the change you have been waiting for'

 

treading water bus, train, work, train, bus bus, train, work, train, bus

 

*

 

You are a God of small  things.

Snapped shoe laces, the sticking utensil drawer

Outreaching arm over the cold side of the bed

Watching the bus you're meant to be on go by

(and the one after that)

Siren chaser, conflict avoider, the job I don't want to go to much today

What I needed to bring and forgot,

What I wanted to say but didn't

(the stupid thing I say instead)

You — in my fears, real or imagined

You — my consolation and my comfort

You — there always in all things

You

 

*

 

Intersectionality lays along our skin; our darkest marks, our deepest wounds. Your gaze penetrating exposes blood first, then bone. If you want to fight on three fronts at once, you might expect a rout but there's another bout in me. I'm not on my knees yet, still here to be a threat to your safe way of life. Your fairytale end, you can't see is pretend It's roots are buried in blood and bone. Our blood. Our bones. Where you thrive, you deprive — others lives and future. Your roots are buried in blood and bone. Our blood, our bones. Our blood, our bones.

 

*

 

the tray of

daffodil bulbs from the dumpster

was mostly empty

but imagine

some day

at the tip

messy, smelly, unwanted things

the green shoots first

then golden trumpeting glory

in an unlikely place

 

*

 

the suns warmth

a benediction on my skin

the birds sing

Amazing Grace to