follow that star…

this pathway made of living.the bridge of doing and done,the shelves of dying laid by hand.the bed made with reverent memories,the pot of giving boiling on the stove…then light the match,i’ll burn it all down…and wrap your body in holy ashes!

and all the weary stripes of the night,the marks of turmoil, the blood stainedsweat, the blow of grieving spirits, andthe weight of the anger, are for a momentlifted. yet the scars remain.coffee makes in small apartments, in trailerparks, in welfare housing, in soon to beforeclosed houses, in run down diners, infarm houses, in alone, stinking…

i wake up with tastes,so simple that i’d forgotten.the whisper of the rain,weaves a web around my soul.and there are voices in the shadows,shadows that build small fires.perhaps prayer is a form of memory,a language we no longer understand.and the body, a cage, or just a shell,for a bird with broken wings!then love, the body…

haul off the trash…when you’re done.take down the signs.lay down your guns….leave your morals at the door!box up your visions,take down your cross…sing your last song!set the fire, fan the flames,turn off the light….when you’re done!

with broken people.knocked down, bruised, wounded,devastated by loss,but still walking people.people who’ve tasted love,who’ve drank fully from the cup of living,people with scars….for these are the peoplewho have the capacity to fly!if you’ve never wrestled demons,how can you know what an angel is.if you dont know the depths of darkness,you will never see the light.if…

the cities painted with despair,the houses built left abandoned.the seeds we altered,the trees we cut down.the mountains we mined,and the seas we defiled.the peoples we left homeless,left to die in poverty and hunger.the ships we sent to the moon,the smoke from the great factories.the daughters we sold into slavery,the sons we executed on profit’s battlefields.the…