Posted in Prayers and the Sacred

When Sightings of Rainbows Are Rare

when i’ve lost
patience with humanity
and sightings of
rainbows are rare
i am reminded
that redemption
only comes through
brokeness
and i give thanks
that life is
not fair

for divine judgement
well deserved
is often
discarded for
grace
and i too
am simply
another
stumbling
member
of god’s weird
human race

Posted in Longreads and Essays

The Gospel of Eve: Confession of the White Man

In light of recent events, I felt that it was rather timely to republish the following as a confession and a call to all of us as men to forever exit the locker room.

I am the White Man;

I blamed Eve for my lust for power and ever since, for generations, I have been the serpent biting at her heels.

And because of this thrown out of the Garden,

and losing touch with God, my Father,

and my Mother, the Earth;

Banned from the Cradle of Civilization and so bent on destroying it and its people;

Rewriting history, lies, mythology, that I am the source of civilization.

I killed my brother and became the builder of cities, havens of murderers, slayers of people and the earth. I, created from clay and brown earth, which I now smother in concrete and steel, white monuments to my killing fields around the world.

Pale, sickly from years in dark caves, hiding from the light of the sun;

Born of a womyn yet taught to forget my mother, that life comes complete from man, yanked from her breast and taught to be hard and strong, to survive, separated from her and so from all womyn;

Beheader of Medusa and all womyn of strength, rapist, pillager;

Crusader; destroyer of all cultures and religions save my own, hating myself and so all other life, taking all with me in my self-destruction;

Creator of God, in my Image, white man, slavemaster;

Creator of Hell;

Wanderer of the earth, homeless, disconnected, unsettled, hopelessly searching for what I can find only in myself, eternally feeding on the flesh of the Earth and her people in vain attempts to satisfy my hunger and emptiness, afraid to see the welts I have put on myself and the people around me;

Killer of the Prophets; Isaiah, the Baptist, King, Romero, Womyn;

Killer of the Messiah, and his willingness to become a little Child, Servant, who sacrificed his power to destroy and so created a New Way, blood to end all bloodshed;

Consumer of his flesh and blood, his children, the peoples of the Earth, in his Name.

I am the White Man;

I have sinned.

And I ask you, Womyn, Man, of Color, what is the Way, the color of my Healing?

I am the White Man;

I cannot change the Color of my skin or my heritage.

But I have looked within and I have seen a heart of stone so I ask you, Womyn, Man of Color, can you help me crack it?

Written 9/22/91 and 3/8/92

Posted in PEACE GROOVES

Poems for Sunday: This Glass Dimly

We have all come from darkness into light,
our lives unending passings through day and night.

Redemption is a circle,
round like a mother’s belly and the
swollen life within.

Bursting forth into the flash,
it is no wander that we scream and squeeze our
eyes tightly shut.

My eyes are open and this glass
darkly dims to blinding light.

1996