Marking Hope on October 7, 2017

White paper. Black pen.
Ready? Let’s begin.

A fall day. Is that enough to say?
Do I need to list colors? Not Roy G. Biv
but fiery orange and wild pink
sharing branches of the same tree
even the same leaf,
and that’s the beginning.

Ready for a day of walking, looking
in order to really see and faithfully
deliver the Good News that life goes on
in spite of politics, including politics
falling at our feet each day in newspaper,
on television and now on line––

wars and threats and rumors of war
started by irresponsible men. And
women too, who get on the wagon
that climbs not to any star, but rolls
its way to hell on wheels of stone.
That given, remember the colors

of orange and pink that share
the veined space on the same leaf.

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Direct Address

Lift up your hands, your empty hands
and pray for the starving,
the famine-afflicted.

Your heart emptied of prayer, now
pick up the pen in your empty hand
and write a check to address hunger’s pain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Least of My Brethren

This child, this Yemenite child
more than half-starved,
his body carved of bone
and swollen belly

this Yemenite child has a name––
Mohannad Ali. He lies on a pallet,
a hospital bed, waiting to die
or live. (He’s only five.)

His face bisected by light and shadow,
his dark eyes look out into mine
from the photo I keep on my desk
to remember him.