Easter Sunday 2016

Logged on to post
about how much
I love Cadbury’s crème eggs
and saw instead
that 65 people
mostly women
blown up by a suicide bomber
in Pakistan, with
another 280 injured.
There is no respite today.
My prayers again to the world
for renewal of spirit,
for healing of our sickness,
and for peace in our time.

This is My America

This is my America.

I wake up each day, grateful, 

knowing my great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers
traveling to this land from across wide seas
not knowing if they could build a life
but opportunity lay ahead
and nothing but persecution lay behind
and they took their Adonai with them
bundled in miniature handmade scrolls
and velvet head coverings.

Knowing that my husband’s ancestors came long before that
either forced onto ships in shackles
for hard lives of brutal labor
or fleeing green hills barren of food
to come here and find plentiful bounty
but hatred still
No Irish signs popping up like
hillside clovers in store windows.

Knowing that my children carry this with them, and more
because their own grandparents,
their father’s familia,
moved here from warmer southern lands
following the trails of San Father Serra
up into Los Angeles
blendings of Latino heritage and cultures,
from California to Texas.

This is my America.

One household, united under God,
With liberty and justice for us all.

Pescecentrism

My poetic husband’s take on the Flood….

Andre's Blog

The fish were nonplussed by The Flood
They wouldn’t know Noah from Adam
The Deluge made their world huge
For forty days and forty nights
Earth was ironically named
The Marine reigned supreme

Aquatic life was not winnowed down to pairs
Crammed into Ark compartments
They had more than enough cubits
The Lord’s fury and sadness
Was landlocked, not offshore
The wicked and corrupt
Swarming walkers and crawlers
Were submerged by
Broke open skies and geysers from the deep

As seas rose over the highest apexes
The fishes flourished
Swam over forests, fins were wings
And kelp floated where clouds once were
These were prosperous halcyon times
For the hydrosphere, a gilded age for the guiltless gilled

It is written that this liquid cataclysm
Killed an antediluvian evil
And when that drowned and died
The oceans subsided, land dried
And people were fruitful and multiplied

This is only one side…

View original post 18 more words

Mine

It’s a Sign, I said, and
you laughed a bit,
just slightly
uncomfortable with
how I see
every piece of you,
of your name,
as my Sign, but
that’s just my way.
I see the Signs.
And in your name, given
to you forty years ago,
when I wasn’t
even here yet
born into this life,
you were marked,
with ashes
between your eyes,
with the long thread
binding us together,
with the Voice
proclaiming we will be
meant to be.
Before I was born,
I was meant for you,
and you were marked
as mine.