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Powers Over Me

I once read,
If I am a parishioner,
(or a student
or a child
or some other non-elite identity)
Then someone has power over me.

It would have been more helpful
if this “someone”
had been named,
finger-pointed outed.

I am left wondering,
Who could this Someone be?

And, is this non-indigenous power
used to empower and disempower me?
And/Or, disempower and empower We?
And possibly some of both,
and all fractal four, above?
Or, with the And/Or,
is this actually another variation
on a perfect octave circling string?

This “someone”
could not mean clergy,
usually civil,
civic-minded
more than uncivil;

Called to suffering of servant facilitators,
moderators,
mediators of democratically inclusive theological reflection
on real world experience,
the scripture of ecological dynasties,

Natural relationships
learned as also,
at our best and most resilient,
theologically resonant health
and safe-valued wealth
of co-passions,
positive
equivalent to double-negatives,

Stories
and histories
and herstories
of double-binding bilateral ZeroZone Souls.

Two intersectional stories
for all relationships,
secular Yang
with sacred non-elite bilateral yin-squared power
climates inside/outside,

Fractals of positive empowerment
and negative disempowerment
forMe/ofWe

Within ecosystems ego-sufficient
and concomitantly co-arising
ego/eco-empowerment;
co-incidental transubstantiation

When Ego equals LeftYang hemispheric framing lenses
and Eco equals RightYin political GreenCommons network
of interdependence,
intersectionality,
sufficient left/right co-affirmation

Then, when reading,
If I am a parishioner,
(or a student
or a child
or some other non-elite identity)
Then someone
slightly less LeftBrain dominant
and more RightBrain affirming
empowers warmly with me.

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Reverberating Synergy

When we look at life,
contingently standing out from death,
historically and futuristically absent,
co-passionately present,
we can see death and dying
as a logical default,
a statistical reality,
almost a necessity
so likely that life emerges
as a reverse default,
experienced only by vulnerably mortal living beings
mutually becoming

Whom each day awakens to another miracle
of living
unfolding further Earth history
and to ego-identified internal life process,
a holonic gift,
an inheritance
borrowed from past generations
to invest in present and future regenerations
of life
emerging from past death and dying
fueling fertile soil,
cleansing water,
stirring clear air
and incensed warm-lit flames
of reverberating annunciation.

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Swing Low Sweet Chariot

One way
I know this afrocentric music,
rather than a eurocentric mere performance piece,
is longing for
a sweet and swinging chariot,
rather than a messiah white and male.

I know
this is a cooperative-felt spirit,
and not so much a competition,
because of how
word choices and round rhythms
combine to pitch longing free safe home.

A freestyle journey
to a rich robust and polycultured freedom
of tribes long living
loving Earth’s peace paradise.

A paradise
western civilization
has not sung or danced,
out loudly joyed about
for far too long
without a warm cooperative song

Swinging low and high
in sweetly waving gold
ruled and ratioed
traveler’s chariot,

Coming and going
racing forth and back
to carry us
in and out of home

To freedom’s too long lost,
stolen, kidnapped
while we were dreaming,
singing and dancing with another day
dreaming nights of disembodied free,

Anxiously anticipating,
weary
and yet warmly welcoming.

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Inclusive Epiphany

Your euphony
sounds like my epiphany
he explicitly noted.

Your polypathic resilience
feels like my polyphonic resonance
she compassionately warmed and comforted,
nurtured and nutritioned.

Your theologically divine relationships,
progressions through historical multicultural experience
think and feel my ecologically natural communions,
processions through polyculturing anticipations,
s/he silently sang,
imaginatively danced,

Not for future performance,
but from past inclusive participations,
investments,
compassionate regenerations,
dispassionate degenerations,
passionate incinerations,

Euphonic epiphanies.

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Uncategorized

Outdoor Sanctuary

I am much more likely to feel like a respectful,
trusting family member
than an entitled warrior,
when outside “property improvements”
than when inside anthropocentric habitats.

Sometimes
even as I approach my favorite sanctuary,
an AllSouls Unitarian-Universalist built structure,
I feel more sacred peace before I open our front door
of intended mutual hospitality
accommodation
conversation
accompaniment on life’s great spirited journey,
than after closed off into merely human monoculturing nature.

It’s not that I see or hear myself
as some great and profound nature mystic.
A post-millennial John Muir
I am clearly not,
although I would like to at least feel myself this communal way.

This contrast between indoor and outdoor trust
and resonance
comes not from feeling trees embrace me
but from me embracing trees
through sight
and sound,
smell,
touch,
occasionally taste, if no humans are watching
with judgmental eyes.

Trees are much more tolerant of my curiosity,
intrusiveness,
than my cousins,
and most of my siblings.

Perhaps tolerance is not the best word choice.
Acceptance sounds more reassuring.
Inviting into co-presence feels too grand,
yet honorable,
worthy of vocational commitment,
loyal

Where indoor mistrust and distrust relationships
speak of selfishly heartless patriotism
and national monoculturing identity
and language and cultural antipathy,
rather than positive integrity
of a sanctuaried people
longing to live free
and comparatively loving lives
under and within paint
and textured sheetrock
looking a bit like bark
if high-end
and if I am feeling generous;
boundaried boxes smelling like chemical toxins.

This unfortunate comparison feels too simple,
for sustained resolution
of internal unsancturied sensitivity,
to notice I need to get out more,
because this means leaving my good faith community behind
as if I were so autonomously strong
in active outside hope and passionately robust love
that I need not hear human stories,
songs,
Need not see and conjoin liturgical non-verbal dance,
sacred rhythms
and patterns of compassionate dialogue,
mutual esteem and support,
appreciation,
warm accompaniment,
not of warriors,
but of peace-builders,
resolvers,
cooperative listeners, prayers
non-predative.

My oppositionally defiant daughter,
when in a forgiving mood,
refers to me as a “Talking Head.”

I find too much truth in her smiling tolerance
of this inflamed ego’s hunger and thirst
for regard
rather than a quieter mutual righteousness
of co-presence,
stalking hearts
inside as necessary for communion’s nurture
and outside as profitable for everyday sane nature.

I respect the limiting fact that pipe organs
and grand pianos
cannot sustain in the rain,
but I also seem to respect the possibility
of rapture in a cappella chant
and fire-circle sanctuary dance
witnessed by trees
and stars,
spoken of only by sacred smoky breezes.

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Fear InBetween Faith

Gratitude’s past grief
brief repast

When re-articulating grief
becomes transparently warm passion,
yet without terrifying overheated anger,
we are together filled with resonantly vulnerable sound
and traumatic sight,

Therein opens new possibilities,
avenues,
tides,
streams,
neurological highways
surfing for resiliently polypathic gratitude,

An experiential reminder,
a virtuous feedback loop,
in which daily reborn life intends love
extends above
down beyond,
deeply rooted within
all Other
awareness;

Grief of anciently fore-shadowed separation
to repair EarthTribe’s loyal gratitude.

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Communion Parasites

I worry about being unfair to other benign parasites
in my feeding-frenzy faith community,
and to myself,
because I need
and/or want
a residential
intentionally cooperative
resiliently win/win consensus
co-investing
co-managing
eco-responsible and responsive
health-wealth community.

This feels rather much to ask
of someone already satisfied with a weekly sanctuary bath,
washing off some of the weekday BusinessAsUsual compost,
looking for ever renewing possibilities for repurposing trash
into refueling treasure.

I fear afflicting innocent souls
with my competitive capitalistic commodifying infliction
endangering all sacred values
averse to genuflecting before all secularized disvalues;

My own intentional community dreams
of relief from justice as revenge
anticipate double-binding win/win commitment to mercy
as peace restoring justice
for mutually healing purposes,

Sacred sanctuary relations between and among
strong-faithed cooperative parasites on MotherEarth,
actively seeking ego-systemic kindness within
and eco-systemic compassion
communioned
communicated
through commonly-held metaphoric verbals
and metaphysical non-verbals,
motions and emotions also shared
without my own comfortably sacred faith community.

I worry this desire of mine
bears little difference
than a hope to live in a multicultural gym
rather than to come in,
invest in twenty aerobic minutes on empty rows of exercise bikes,
take a quick, very private, shower,
and leave enough hot water
for all future regenerations.

Efficient,
like commercial sandwich bread,
but not really the stuff of robust communion.

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