When I opened the door
I found the vine leaves
speaking among themselves in abundant
whispers.
My presence made them
hush their green breath,
embarrassed, the way
humans stand up, buttoning their jackets,
acting as if they were leaving anyway, as if
the conversation had ended
just before you arrived.
I liked
the glimpse I had, though,
of their obscure
gestures. I liked the sound
of such private voices. Next time
I’ll move like cautious sunlight, open
the door by fractions, eavesdrop
peacefully.
Aware
Why do you pretend
Why do you pretendto be a teacher?
Heart Dance
I had a story; / about Longing
Mastodon
Existence is a state of constant flux, as is what it means to be sacred
The well of grief
Those who will not slip beneath the still surface on the well of grief,
You and I Have Spoken All These Words
You and I have spoken all these words / but for the way we have to go, words are no preparation
I hope to God you will not ask
"I hope to God you will not ask me to go anywhere except my own country
Agape’s Love for Gaza: A Poem for Peace
In the heart of Gaza, where ancient stones whisper tales of endurance
Hymn to Maa Tara
We offer prayerful salutations at the feet of Maa Tara.