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Missing Mom’ s ReBirthday

She would be ninety-two today
if I had my way
Back to where we were
Fast approaching her annual Day.

But now I feel too anonymously alone.
She took my best self memories with her.
I wanted to go a bit further to life’s bone
with her empathic comfort skills
expanding our mutual listening ZeroZone.

She often cautioned
against going too far alone
too fast
to speak denser wisdom
preferred traveling together
far past
today’s too volatile weather.

I miss her custodial care
And listen for her fast and far accessed awareness
together born of ancient DNA solidity
returning her most resilient revisiting integrity

Within this slow-paced dare,
our timelessly untraveled changing day
and night right time
to renew her listening care
more internally unspoken rhymes
compared to her
more accomplished communal way.

She must be ninety-two today
when I’ve had my best way
Back to where we are
Fast approaching each ReBirth Day.

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Advent Funerals with Birthdays

The coincidence of Advent
and the HW Bush eulogies
reminded me of DJ Trump’s challenge
to laugh about himself
at least as quickly as he laughs against others.

As compared to any recent US President,
he comes in dead last
for his appropriate humility,
willingness to sacredly listen, empathize with generosity,
and least place for his ability to nurture resilient international peace,
and I am not sure these two challenges
are merely side-by-side coincidental.

Other challenges seem to come with the Yangish motivation required to even become a credible candidate.

Presidential candidates
at least since the Civil War,
if not the Revolutionary War,
are not generally known for saintly sacred listening
to and for healthy multicultural developments,
domestic or foreign,
domestic and yet foreign
to those unschooled in WinWin health-power whisperings,

Noticing positive deviance
advocated and praised and blessed first well-humored,
before negative pedestrian bullying rat races continue
with all paranoid Win/Lose stripes
madly pursued by monoculturing manic political stars.

This Advent day of HW Bush eulogies
was also my oppositionally defiant daughter’s seventeenth birthday.
When I asked her for an allegorical meaning
for the Sleeping Beauty fable
she dismissed the story
as another patriarchal humorless female Messianic staple
for achieving EarthJustice happily ever after
by mere kiss of Prince Charming
after she had done all the heavy emotional lifting
required to rebuild sacred communion
with resilient good humor.

But, she is more interested in discussing Robin Hood
and Little Red Riding Hood,
all the potential messianic Hood leaders
who know predative patriarchal wolves when they see
and hear
and smell them,
even in hooded disguise,
transparently lying on their own grandmother’s bed
and Bibles
and thrones,
about being more committed to democratic good-humored healthy constitutions
advocates for sharing communion with all
before defending their own ego-centric hindquarters.

My fetal alcoholic seventeen year old daughter
knows wolves when she hears them
in government threatening humorless voices
or more entertainingly violent industrial corruption predators.

Feminist Hoods can themselves taste wolf hunger
for royal hunting and riding
and devouring innocent WinWin democratic youth,
separating them from their naive healthy multiculturing forests,
composed by
and for
and of naturally diverse and good-humored habitats.

She can smell satiated predators
growing hungry for vulnerable healthy integrity
stealing back fleeting power from Win/Lose playing wolves
by investing economic and political trust
in those still living natural-humored life
as a normal spiritually connecting re-investment.

Hooded egos still know this spiritually enchanted forest life
as a naturally reconnecting hope
for healthy happier,
more co-redemptive,
EarthJustice futures.

And so the eulogies
and my daughter’s exegetical birthday party progressed
through Cinderella’s king and queendom
at healthier humored EarthJustice hand
after marrying her Prince of Adventuring Revolutionary Peace.

On through the Three Little Pigs
enjoying shared wolf-soup communion
with all EarthTribe’s piglets and cubs,
dolls and stuffed bears
communioned while sitting down grace-fully together.

She hears this same polypathic humored journey
in every diversely sacred narrative
she leads and listens,
smells and tastes and feels
hope for Earth’s wealth
of future everyday health
for democratic constitutions,
disability stories,
eulogies inviting salvific humor.

This coincidence of birthday and funeral
reminds me of our sacred challenges
to laugh communally among ourselves
more than jeering a viral twittering weapon
against the vulnerabilities of others.

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Easter Eggs as Health Systems

Trees and seeds
like embryonic eggs
are each fed by root systems
intending diastatic maturation,
like Easter lillies,
and seasonal, more static, decomposing purgation,
heading toward further cooperative re-investments
or waste
depending on our choices
and way of seeing,
more competitive or more cooperative.

The seed of human nature’s nutritional system
are the trees of Earth’s natural root systems,
ergodic and phylogenic,
designed for ecopolitical cooperation
more than ego-individual,
or ethno-tribal-creedal,
or anthro-super-speciating
monoculturing competitions.

Trees and seeds
and new-life eggs
are each fed by history’s more cooperatively-owned
and governing
root nutritional systems.

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