Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth Read Online Free PDF

have harmed
Gleefully
Embraces you?

Goddess
    I am so glad
I can recognize
A goddess
When I see one.
    There is Yeshi’s
Trustworthiness
Glenna’s
Patience
Sue’s willing helpfulness (& genius)
Zelie’s
Wild
Laughter
& song
Evelyn’s
Loyalty
    Diana’s equanimity
    Ruth’s incredible
Storytelling
& inexplicable
    Suffering.
    The scent of
My mother’s
Roses.
Is heart
Wisdom alone
To see this
Not—the added blessing—
Eyes.

Why War Is Never a Good Idea
    (A Picture Poem for Children
Blinded in War)
Though War speaks
Every language
It never knows
What to say
To frogs.
    Picture frogs
Beside a pond
Holding their annual
Pre–rainy season
Convention.
    They do not see WAR
Huge tires
Of a
Camouflaged
Vehicle
About to
Squash
Them flat.
    Though War has a mind of its own
War never knows
Who
It is going
To hit.
Picture a donkey
Peacefully
Sniffing a pile
Of straw.
A small boy
Holds
The end
Of its
Frayed
Rope
Bridle.
    They do not see it
They are both thinking
Of dinner.
The boy
Is hoping for
Polenta & eggs
Maybe a carrot
Or apple
For
Dessert.
    Just above
Them
Something dark
Big as
A car
Is
Dropping.
    Though War has eyes
Of its own
Gas
& mahogany trees
& every shining thing
Under
The earth
    When it comes
To nursing
Mothers
It is blind;
Milk, especially
Human,
It cannot
See.
    Picture a woman
Beside a window.
She is blissful
Singing
A lullaby.
A baby twirls
A lock of her
Dark hair
Suckles
For all
It is
Worth.
    They do not smell War
Dressed in
Green & brown
Imitating
Their fields
Marching slowly
Toward them
Up
The steep
Hill.
    Though War is Old
It has not
Become wise.
It will not hesitate
To destroy
Things that
Do not
Belong to it
Things very
Much older
Than itself.
    Picture the forest
With its
Rivers
& rocks
Its pumas
Its
Parakeets
Its turtles
Leopards
Snakes.
High above them War
Has turned itself
Into a white cloud
Trailing
An
Airplane
That
Dusts
Everything
Below
With
A powder
That
Kills.
    War has bad manners.
War eats everything
In its path
& what
It doesn’t
Eat
It
Dribbles
On:
    Here
War is
Munching on
A village
Its missiles
Taking chunks
Big bites out
Of it.
War’s
Leftover
Gunk
Seeps
Like
Saliva
Into
The
Ground.
It
Is finding
Its
Way
Into the
Village
Well.
    War tastes terrible
& smells
Bad. It never
Considers
Body
Odor
Or
Weird
Side
Effects.
When added
To water
It makes
You sick
Sip by sip.
    You could die
While
Choking
Holding
Your
Nose.
    Now, suppose You
Become War.
It happens
To some of
The nicest
People
On earth:
& one day
You have
To drink
The
Water
In this place.

The Award

The Award
    Though not
A contest
Life
Is
The award
& we
Have
Won.

Though We May Feel Alone
    Though we may feel
Alone
We never
Really are.
The ancestors
The one called
God
The one called
Death
Prominent
Among them
Rest on our
Shoulders
Always.
    It is as if
We carried two
Birds’ nests
Just below
Our ears;
In these
Like so many eggs
The ancestors
Sit.
    They ride along
Overhearing
Every conversation
Every
Thought
Watching everything
We do.
    Fragile as eggs
But tough
Cookies
Too
It does not matter
To them
If we lose our
Way
On occasion
That we become
Lost
Or fall down.
    Missteps are
Common
On every path
They’ve seen
 (& they’ve seen lots!).
    What matters to them
Is that
We right ourselves
Keep a better watch
Over where we’re going
That they retain
The high view
They like
& what is most
Crucial
For helping us:
Balance.

When We Let Spirit Lead Us
    When we let Spirit
Lead us
It is impossible
To know
Where
We are being led.
All we know
All we can believe
All we can hope
Is that
We are going
Home
That wherever
Spirit
Takes us
Is where
We
Live.

Dream
    Sometimes
When I dream
About
My mother
She is in
One of the
Shacks
Her art
Made
Radiant.
    She might
Be lying
All in pink
Just
In
The doorway
Sunlight
Warm
Upon her
Singing.
    In Life,
A Methodist
Then an
Atonal
Jehovah’s
Witness
My mother
Did not
Sing.
    At least
Not the
Subversive
Jazzy
Melodies
She favors
In
My
Dream.
    On my altar
For years
Two