No one wants to need a blessing.
It offends the self-reliant heart.
But good words have brooded over you
Since the benediction: “It was good.”
And sometimes blessings sound like curses,
When kindness and mercy toll like death.
But may our blessing and our cursing
Reverberate with Love’s own breath.
May you lose the war.
May you lose the game.
May you lose your money.
May you lose your fame.
The days crackle
with sister voices –
simmering sorrow,
roaring courage,
glowing justice.
Unstuff my ears!
Unveil my eyes!
Clay pots
have been
shattered
at our feet.
I’m keeping a list of Easter Mischief.
It’s growing every day.
I’m to start in the cemetery in the dead of night,
Swapping stories with a crowd of caskets
Before hugging the dirt above Grandma’s grave.
Then, Mischief has told me to loose my grudges
Like a herd of cows skipping out to pasture,
To lay down my cares like a purring kitten.
Before long, I’m to meet the little ones and the weak.
We’re making paper chains to replace the prison bars
And macaroni art for every permanent record.
Greatness is not goodness.
The pyramids are a wonder of the world,
But one can only imagine the brick by brick
Brutality born on the backs of people
Who did not belong to themselves.
Greatness is not goodness.
We’ve joined God in the heavens,
And gawked at the Great Wall of China from above.
Our walls go up. Then come tumbling down.
But God, God’s eye is on the sparrow.
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