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Growing Healthier Hopes

For measuring fleeting successes
of punishing policing justice,
we have overly relied on recidivism rates
in response to curiosity about
How to decrease crime.

For enjoying compassion
of restorative
healing justice,
we rely on win/win mediation
to grow deep resonance
and widely resilient integrity

In response to curiosity about
How to increase health
and safety
and happiness
locally egotherapeutic
and globally ecotherapeutic.

Retributive justice
fails a healthy and safe
wellness society
as it continues to punish
and excommunicate wounded
win/lose damaged criminals.

Meanwhile
community-based visions
for restoring wellbeing
equity
justice
become increasingly effective
and resilient
as parents
and teachers
and leaders
shift our victimization focus
from CRIMES, violent and/or financial,
to healing victims of TRAUMA

Personal
and systemic,
political
and economic,
locally genocidal
and globally ecocidal.

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Uncategorized

Lessons Partially Learned

Parents
and teachers,
economic program
and social service leaders,
government administrators
and legislators,
listen up
and downstream

We too often act
and feel
the reverse is more quickly
and convenient
through rigid control,
or at least should
or could
or would like to be enlightened true
more than disempowering false:

Empowering cooperative ownership
arrives slowly
but resonantly
and more resiliently
through enlightened cooperative management
experience
and win/win resonant tenure

And not so much the other
entitled
and self-righteous
stress
and vindictive trauma
competitive way around
treading heavy capitalism’s survival
of the wealthiest
defeating thrival
of our healthiest
trusted ways abound
to cooperatively manage peace
that we would justly hope
to EarthTribe own
into safest perpetuity

A trusted indigenous wisdom franchise
to retrain
and re-educate parents
and teachers,
empower economic programs
and enlighten social service leaders,
self-governing cooperative administrators
and legislators,
listening up
and downstream
for cooperative management systems
supporting lives never autonomously owned
and always sacredly zoned
for interdependent trust

Empowering cooperative management
systems
for enlightened cooperative
organic network peace
and restorative justice
building
inviting
engaging
immersion

In win/win joyful play
all night
and day.

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Uncategorized

Wounded World

I’ve seen Earth’s epitaph:
S/He did more than Her share
to heal a broken world

Which sometimes seems to invoke anger
because I can touch what’s broken
and other times provoke merely sad
because I can only feel inside
who is also wounded

Earth’s living magic,
watered fertile soil,
red-blooded organic
green clean soul
is not broken
like a worn-out clock
or formerly animated toy
or obsolescent urban block
now gone inevitably bad.

EarthTribe is not so much broken
as win/lose perpetually wounded
Paradise Lost
for our lapse
of good-humored Golden Rules
win/win re-found
happy healthy bodhisattva
rebound.

What is already broken
requires outside messianic agency,
too objectively disabled
to stimulate subjective healing salvation,
personally feeling better

Emergent internally vital
growing positively viral,
stealing from toxic claustrophobic disarray,
tomorrow’s voices redeemed
by choices erupting therapeutic promise
today.

Organic wounds,
unlike mechanical brokenness,
give internal notice
warnings of disenabling trauma
also enable therapeutic opportunity
to pull and push risk,
to massage and stretch ambiguous feelings
touching each Other’s sinews
and straps,
moral lapse,
dancing mental songs
and embodied raps

Filling in our anti-social lapse
our monoculturing elapse
of warm
and wet
and wild compassion,
integrity’s redemptive fashion.

Brokenness shrouds despair
alone
where wounds invite
our active healthy care
together happiness vocationed
for EarthTribe’s ecstatic day
by faithful contenting way
inclusively inviting
inspirational repair
with those who dare
to share Earth’s communal difference
to heal this wounded world.

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Uncategorized

Another Storm

Another storm threatens to come in,
feeling my responsibility
for uncaring
and unresponsive history

Fearing you
more than loving us

Setting out your pails
and plastic tubs
to catch cold
and dreary drips

Impaled remembering
past wet enemies
becoming darker spots
as moisture threatens,
building mold untold
as yet
by angry lips

Dripping windowed frames
and ceiling fixtures
of your felt losses
not equally carried
by more comforted me
opaque with tender crosses

Buried
in how lonely
love can feel
hidden in Earth’s evolving top,
improbable to see

Our together threatening
leaky roof may drown,
which you would have fixed
some months ago,
if you could do so
on your own.

This storm pauses
and brighter rays suggest
a sun still shining
behind dark uncivil distress

Clouds could uncover
our disassociation,
poor and hovering
coveting a sun-drenched nation

Calculating our cost in cash,
but not in minds and bodies
to stop stormy smothers
of inside raining
draining issues,
deep core tissues
thundering crash

Warning we must get this done
before another wild wet storm
fearing you
more than loving us,
undone

Darker clouds build to leak again
while I explain why
you still can’t trust me
to invest in unstormed peace

A contenting roof
unconditionally done

So all EarthTribe
can safely put away our pails
and nails,
defensive weapons,
buckets,
overflowing pans
and spans of climate panic

Now rumbling receding thunder
of fearing you
more than loving us

Turns toward replacing damaged health,
repriming stains repainting wealth
of more warmly wild respect
while together musing
about who is bare surviving
and is not thriving
with what prestorming care,

Remembering who is dry
and fair
and prosperous
and why
we fear this tragic storm
more than loving weathered warm.

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Bruising Words

Words too often have rough edges,
bloody histories,
lines more defined
than relentlessly imaged cliffs,
worshipping sacred sunlight shades
of high hazards

Coveted risks
more than needed opportunities
to hard wall wail against wild creations
unmoved by words
without animated calling
longing
belonging
or wooing wilderness

Offending worded weapons
seducing well-schooled tools

Sounds with edges
and without

Opening and closing
edgeless sighing pause

Slowly awaiting surf’s slow
slurried
soft
slavish turn
to reach for shores
absorbing thoughtless
sand-grained
edges.

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Widowed ComPassion

Said the old widow cook
to the drag queen son
feeding his/her dying abusive dad,
while offering her nurturing donation:

“I don’t want your money.
We’re not savages, yet.”

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Loving Jose

Yes, Jose,
this is another love letter
from anthroprivileged me
to LeftBrain dominant you
for multicultural us.

I’m still here
sinking into my deep blue camp chair
with feet resting on a weathered
wooden platform
for my monastic tent

Now folded
and masterfully squeezed into its storage bag
like a fat green sausage
with a thick
black fly zipper,
secure,
awaiting it’s next orgasmic coming out
to camp and play.

And you,
warm and glistening
listening you,
are still driving
west toward this transition
Saturday’s bittersweet sunset.

Perhaps already lonely
thinking
of what
and feeling whom
lies ahead
while all else feels left behind

Another week of adventure lost;
another week of memories gained

Yet memories have grown cacophonous
while adventures in knowing
new frontiers
grow old as shrinking Earth
grown bodies

Fading hope to feel
taste
see
hear
smell
touch abundantly enough
for this full life
experiencing love
quenched time

Comparing future now to back there then,
wishing we could have us all
warm and pleasant
in our head,
heart,
bed of intimacy
without embarrassing
premature limits,
boundary issues,
health precautions.

You tried to apologize
for not asking more
about my wounded kids

And I did not think to apologize,
but wonder, now, that I didn’t,
for not asking how you are feeling
and dealing
post prostate cancer

Remissions
feel like uncertain transitions,
undemanding admissions
both healthy opportunities
and diseased risks
lie beyond this day’s journey
toward Albany.

Perhaps you,
like me,
fear
and already feel
loss of intimacy
imagined
yet not touched,
thought
but not appreciably,
healthy needed
but not safely found,
sacred bound
for joy’s immense integrity.

When I walked into our group’s enclosed porch
this past Sunday
for my first check-in circle,
your first facilitation,
I thought of my former boss.

You look and sound
like Bishop Tafoya,
when he was your age
and I was half your age.

I had trouble
shaking this sage off.

It helps
that you sing
with warmth and passion
in fulsome baritone,
as the good Bishop
decidedly did not.

Nor could I imagine him
dancing with a white scarved fan
with integrity
flirtatious machismo
joyfulness
deeply resounding playfulness.

Do you have a type?
I wonder
Are you familiar with mine?

Those romantic,
erupting into erotic,
miracles of preference
we cannot control
or calm our appetites
to accept
AND appreciate,
anticipate
those with us
here and there
in and out of Gayla 44,
after and before
now heading west
away from east.

So much to hide,
to learn,
to unveil,
to set aside
for graceful aging,
and to warmly embrace
for compassioned wisdom
felt together,
rather than silently,
less sacredly,
apart.

The Center’s lunch bell rang
and now has gone

Absorbed by quiet shushing
and rustling
high in evergreens
baking in Mama’s summertime
weekend of commerce
and less commercial passions,
traffic rituals,

Pre-empting ancient natural liturgies
of sea,
flowing water
and strong mountains
inspiring bonfires
bond-fire between rising
and falling phoenix
conjoining
co-investing
multi-generational passions;
daddies and sons,
masters and slaves,
tops and bottoms,
poles and holes,
straights and rounds,
dipolar co-arising

Riding forward home
to what continues repurposing why,
reworking hidden meaning
as yet unredeemed
in sensory Business As Usual

Backward east
returning promises
of safe and healthy
bright happy new dawns
transcending broken hearts,
troubled mind’s
loss of time’s
most cherished values

Love’s integral compassions
resting first
returning last

Already
I miss you
ready to miss us.

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Uncategorized

The GiveAway Song

As her EarthDay drum calls out
to inside outside severance

Amid EarthTribe’s gathered laughter
and sorrow,
speaking
and listening,
singing
and silent witnessing,

Earth’s wealth
leaks nutritional health
gifts sharing value with every messiah
in sunshine circles
of care giving
and receiving
sacred shifts
toward cherished bright esteem.

In this sacred win/win culture
of indigenous compassion,
all celebrants cooperatively steward
gifts circling through reciprocity
and back toward MeWe integrity
again.

We dance in sacred circles of meaning,
not merely in secular cause-effective lines
for capitalizing straight efficient purpose

We learn to share our passion
while watching red berries
offer up their healthing gifts
from strong-hearted root systems
co-empathic,
synergetic nurturing networks.

Small seeds
cherished gifts
reminding We to Me
Mother Seeds make merry
underground,
beneath humane hearing.

EarthDay gifts
trust me,
and us,
to uphold our sharing systems,
disperse our safe and healthy seeds
to each new sacred place
to know
and grow,
which is good for berries
and their students

Reminding elders
all win/win flourishing
is mutually healthy thrival
flow.

Depressing anxiety
about future certain consumer losses,
like mortality
of ego’s timid bare humanity,
extract possibilities
for healthy Earth Day resilient impressions
at every future imagined turn
to hoard more gifts.

In healthier indigenous EarthDay circles
living lands are teaching gifts,
not subservient property
for supporting self-convenienced students

Inside looking
and listening through a screened speaker
not noticing Earth is first
a birth of whole-sum seeds
before we close our hardened doors
for protecting empty closed mines
without a humanely engineered
shovel for digging hidden
hoarded inside treasures.

We are EarthBound
by a win/win covenant
of regenerative reciprocity
breathing in healthy gifts
breathing out wealthy shifts
winter and summer,
predator and prey,
fire and grass,
night and day,
dying and living
power dark and bright lights

Cosmic dancing
co-gravitating gifted muses
wrapping and unwrapping
Earth Days and Nights again

In this dance of the giveaway
we remember Earth springs forth
and harvests back songs
we need for win/win
hoarding lose/lose mourning
passage of polar bears,
silence of cranes,
death of rivers
transporting gifts like
winter’s wounding snow
swelling banks
expanding loss

Perhaps too late
for future healthy regenerations
we may, this Earth Day,
recognize dazzling gifts
from MotherEarth’s womb
as WeMe teeters on the cusp
of our Great UnGift Extinction.

Let us hold tall
and spread wide
our liberally loving gifts
of our own cooperative making
copassionate warming acts
transcendently soaring ideas
perfect regifting tools
are not offensive weapons
fiercely defending against loss
of all Earth’s days
now given before

Tomorrow’s gifts of mind
hands
heart
voice
silence
vision
revision
offered up
and out,
down
and in
on behalf of sacred Earth.

Whatever our gift,
we are called to give
and regive,
to dance for renewal
of EarthTribe’s world
in return for MeWe privilege
to breathe in
and out
Earth’s living love.

Note: This piece is inspired by Robin Wall Kimmerer’s “Epilogue: Returning the Gift” pp. 380-384, in Braiding Sweetgrass. It includes some phrases that are hers but without quotation marks. I want to claim poetic license but also to not tread on Kimmerer’s copyright. With gratitude and in the spirit of Both/And dialogue.

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Uncategorized

Brass WindChimes

Brass windchimes
ring melodic time
backed up
and down,
back
and forth
by boisterous breeze voices
blowing somewhat more silent choices
below

Before benighted rejoice
reprise to rise
and fall
wounded fail
yet again

Melodious inside intentions
to ring true
love’s restoring stories
of local justice circling
dynamic spirals inside
looking resounding out
virally
conspiratorially
anticipating healthier life within
Mother’s sensual gusts

Overpowering peaceful chimes
global resting
arresting rhymes
with powerful enculturing space
enlightened green spring out times
up happy,
healthy

Driven by bountiful breeze
and this northbound tidal
grey-blue iconic river
flowing drifts back
and surging forth,

Downstream
yet again back up
in-between
indigenous natured out
spirits in

Chiming outside colonizing industrial windows
noticing
re-connecting stressful winds
and anxious tides
of not so well chimed
compassionate green change
loudly rang

While icecaps,
empowering South
and enlightening North,
silently
soundlessly
melt integrity’s just right divine
and humane left

Eastern Earth greets Western Sun
chiming resonant hospitality
of eco/theo-logical nurturers
nourishing brass rounds
of resighted
respited
holy sounds.

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Relationships I Hope For

I need clear blue rivers of life
to not always flow away from me,
in some direction
I can’t
or won’t
go right now.

I need green commitments to home
to feel mutually nurturing,
sheltering,
organic,
peaceful,
cooperatively engaging
in nonviolent communion,
co-passionate integrity
of sacred emergent space.

I need the sky
to not always feel grey,
dampening my curious natural spirits.
Instead,
I want to always imagine,
as needed,
as invited,
as if sun summoned,
a radiant blue sky
singing reflections
of invisible spinning stars
on the other
lighter side
of deepest icy winter’s
dense
dull
dark cloud bank
of settled in oppression.

I need rich black soil
to support my feet,
my nose,
my stomach,
green trees,
brightly colored plants
and amazing animated animals
giving back robust excretions,
reparations for past extractions,
borrowed co-investments
infesting EarthTribal
creolizing rich brown humus.

I need my rain-bowed neighbors
to notice
applaud
cheer
celebrate
when two elegantly athletic white swans
sensationally fly upstream
to hang out at our downtown harbor
where we eat
and drink,
rest
and float,
dream
and gloat,
on land
and sandy water,
at least side by side,
if not honking happy
swimming together.

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