Listen

you did not hear me

calling your name in

the evenings that held

you close miles away

in a Spanish speaking

world where the dew

each morning I recall

spoke your name. the

distance was sadness,

the civil war terrifying

and quietly I tossed prayers

to heaven. listen, I love

you like the winds that

blow in Central American

valleys and on city streets.

for years, you have held

me fair, my dreams are

made of songs about you

and the children we call

ours to whom I am known

by heart are a blessing like...

Village Walk

the road narrowly stretched

out in a long line toward the

place of hidden secrets sleeping

in a church where light clustered

like fireflies in June. the voices

singing in the sanctuary came

clearly and sweetly to me so

I closed my eyes and allowed

the sounds to lengthen into the

night. upon that mystery in the

little village church I rested my

heart troubled by trodden paths

taken in a civil war world with

too many youths perishing. the

long walk made me wonder what

was won, who is living...

ICE

they are killing us at

the bus stops, on the

sidewalks, apartment

buildings, during traffic

stops, detention centers,

in front of our children,

and always in the name

of hate. they are killing

us while too many look

the other way, churches

roll away their Bibles

and those of us not yet

murdered remain to wipe

away the bitter tears. they

are killing us in the Midwest,

from coast to coast and in

the places the goodness of

God appears unable to reach.

they are killing the young

Brown men, little kids,...