welcome

my grandmother

always kept a pot of boiling water

on her stove

at all times

she wanted to give a warm welcome

to anyone who came intruding

at odd hours

through a shut window

or a locked door

that pot of water

was her assurance

that whoever showed up

would never forget

what it was like

to go to somebody’s house

uninvited

and next time

be sure to knock

and wait

to be

asked

in

thankful

contemplating the future

and remembering the past

we think

we dream

we live

we progress…

continually moving

even if it feels like we are standing still

in a world without walls

standing on a rolling sidewalk

making connections

crafting collaborations

and

uninhibited creations…

being thankful for our many accomplishments

 

 

Priests

Priests...
 Who come to purify our souls
    but leave us with their filth
  purging iniquity from our lives
     and  replacing it with their own
hiding behind the screen of sickness
    lying in wait for innocent ones seeking solace from this cruel world
             into the new world
               to escape the violence within
                  only to meet with anarchy in the sanctuary
                       ruining lives and leaving devastation in the wake of rape and violation by wolves
in sheep’s clothing
laying on hands confusingly placed
leaving marks on our spirits that don’t wash off
 words silenced through big payoffs and excuses
       keeping secrets
          and hundreds of sealed confessions
             with no earthly consequences
Father in heaven help us
    forgive us for our sins
protect us from all who would do us harm in Your Name
       Hail Mary full of grace
          look not on our anger
             help us to forget
       and look for our reward
         in the life to come
             forever and ever
AMEN.

Day #7

Awakening
on the eve of something better…
an old thing always passes away
as we cry and grieve what was
bury the dead
and scatter the ashes
we come to realize that what we really miss
was what we only thought we had
and bask in the memories of an illusion
filled with created imagery
and crafted lunacy
finally reality sheds light
and we see the truth about ourselves and others
and learn that we deserve more.
selah…

(c) 2012 PoetryofMotion!
All Rights Reserved

for them...and for me

just another afternoon of random thoughts
  and musings about nothing in particular
while passing by a group of angry young ladies of nine or ten whose femininity has been ripped away
until they are no longer themselves
     their speech is broken
      as well as their hearts
i wonder where the little girls are
 underneath all of the façade of roughness...

~from "Hairstory"