Medicine For The Soul, Love's Sister

Boom...

1.

An angel stole my heart.

An angel stole my heart, a petal dropped from the storm, the wind blowing through its warbled tongue then fell upon my spirit. It held me dear like a child, hungry from the waste that I’d made.

Oh! The child spoke of freedom! Did you hear his wind blowing truth like a song meant for all of those in creation’s arms? All things beneath the sparkling canopy, lifting up for us to gaze, for us to love.

All things computed by my mind are of self and not in harmony with life. Living and life mean many different things. Love has but one. It needn’t be defined, it breathes its beauty through everything within, it exhales beneath us, it moans from its aches and loves with each and everything that is her.

She, her laughter, her glee, her life tumbling in joy with our eye on the prize, her love as soft as mist kissing our downturned lives, her arms and lips envelope us in this world without end.

2.

Fear enters with a slow, mysterious dance standing before me and through me and of me. Do we not care the outcome? Is the ending worth repeating at the beginning?

Do not cleave at Love. Do not do your human magic while looking above. Do it while you realize where you stand. Our feet are not foreign to her. They writhe, ache and long to feel her ground, but she remembers them. She recalls every curve, every emotion, every ill deed, every foul use, every kiss, every lover, every dream, every tear, every drop of blood, gallon of oil, every hate, every greed, every sin, every breed, every hope, every prayer, every scream, every laugh, every glee, every mountain, stream and tree, every wave in the ocean, every breath in her spirit, every spirit in her breath, every, every, every single solitary one!

3.

What I’d give to live beyond this moment, this snap of breath, this suffering Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother, suffering her screams, witnessing her Love coming up for us to reap!

Oh! She’s not dead! She does not die! She flies green, flies blue, flies you, flies me and all liquid planted upon her lips and running to the edge of the forest to hear our reply…

Silence.

Boom.

Silence.

Boom!

Silence…

........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........ •HEAD-LINES• •RIP• ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)--- There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God… ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)--- Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God… ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)--- I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...

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sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman

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Per Plex Ed

PER+PLEX-ED When you haven’t heard the truth in so long, when you do, it rings a most familiar s ong. That’s the human song, the truth rolling out exactly when it should. (If a truth is told and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound only to the one that spoke it?) Yes, but our ears aren’t strong enough to hear it. [a perplexed silence] © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

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CONFESSION ZERO

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