Skin

Bearers of power live from the surface

skin deep

the only measure of dominance.

Too many die in the shadow

of their sun spared wrappings

Of hate by exclusion

Of what matters in black.

Roots

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Rain heavy leaves

surviving the fall

spine fractured and severed high,

alive only in memory of a collective grace.

With  dreams of new life budding

in leaf soaked earth,

roots nurture all of life 

Mother kissed 

birthing a new haven.

Saved

IMG_1297.jpegRestless for the air outside

in the light of un-stained glass.

I count my breath to calm my spirit with

doors closing and hushed children.

Invocation then

to dreams and freedom

away from pretense and prose,

Amen.

 

September 2017/ cell phone photography
Florence, Italy

nights

_MG_0321I don’t know in the night

about corner edges and how they hurt

about who is in charge of my broken heart

breath so loud with fear

and yet no voice

tears fall fast and never seen

the space divorced from eastern light

I don’t know in the night

about me, about hope

Regarding death….

The personal threat of death looms heavy.

The air we breathe seems thick with risk. 

As a physician, I live quite cautiously – very aware of biology and consequence.

At the same time I live blindly in service to a call.

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So regarding my death,

I am aware of treasured moments and hope 

yet also the horror of being very alone in fear…

today that will be enough.

reach

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The heart grows tender only in the dark places of pain and loss

where seeds of anger die too slowly

but then reach

for the hope of rebirth

for the delicate touch of light

for a healing shower of grace and love