What I saw that day, my mind insisted were people,
running back and forth—silhouettes—they were equal.
What I saw that day, I just couldn’t conceal
their shape was mine, it almost didn’t seem real.
See original thought comes before the prequel,
because the love we’re born with exists before evil.
What I saw that day, sure I know they were people,
while my beginner’s mind worked, I couldn’t help but feel
—their heart’s skip beats—my heart was healed,
by what I saw that day on a beach filled to equal:
coexistence at birth, we’re miraculous people.
In the house I keep each wall shall be
A coloring book for poetry
Where colors burst in harmony
Where war and peace succumb to paint.
In the house I keep each window sill
Shall only bear the daylight spill
Where succulents hang with free will
Where laughter’s never faint.
In the house I keep each lock will turn
With open ended thoughts to churn
Where no one line deserves to burn
Where honesty is quaint.
But when fear knocks in the house I keep
There will be no reason for which to weep
My hands dipped well within relief
Each wall we’ll finger paint.
In the house I keep my only wish
To deserve and serve this simple dish
Where forks and knives grow strong and rich
Where no wall goes untouched.
The sun is warm on my face
grey shadow upon wood grain
stuck somewhere between
sympathy and harmony
with the universe
and where a headache should be
there is none
and where a heart should be
there is stone
and where I should be
there is shadow
alone and warm and aware
cast too across wood grain with
the closing doors of another work shift.