i am more…

from the underside of the bridge,i learned home has not a house.from forty years of working,i learned the bitterness of the slave.from the political lies,i learned that truth cant be bought.from the books i read,i learned to reason and question.from the heroin needle,i learned the value of life.from love lost,i learned how to love.from doubt…

ended badly…and i know the deep levelof pain and anger and loss…where there was great love,there will be an even greatersense of hurt… as if the wholeworld comes crashing down on you…one of the hardest thingsfor me was when there werechildren involved…. especiallysmall children….(and all children, in a parent’seyes are small!)i can remember waking up…

Wearing my dirty jeans?Tying my shoes?Whose face in my mirror?Who’s eating my toast?Who’s reading my book?Who’s sweeping my floors?Whose lips on my prayers?Who’s talking? Who hears?Whose eyes and whose thoughts?Whose footsteps? Whose fears?Whose hands and whose back?Whose growl and whose scent?Whose heart in the ashtray?Whose name on the stone?

playing a flute;listening, listening,for the sound ofthe Lover’s voice….waiting, for the familiartouch, for the smellof the last rose openingas the wings of autumnapproach…. listening,for the sound of my own heart,or the sound of planets evolving;waiting for the gift of emptiness,and the dance of flesh on flesh….walking barefootedon broken glass….whispering to the stillness!

is the last cryof all those killedin the name of capitalism.the tearin my eyes,the hunger of thosewe’ve forced tolive in poverty.the bruiseon my lips,the swelling groanof those we’ve oppressed!

will not let go… the part of him that isowned by fear….we have much difficulty understandingthat we are not what we possess…. butwhat we give…and so we run from freedom!