She was the best mom.
In hard times, she’d put a Bible under my pillow
so words of comfort mingled with my dreams.
(Fear not, for I bring you tidings of great joy.)
She never let a stranger-child go hungry,
even with that big farm, big family –
drove my father nuts!
It’s a KID, she’d say.
That was that.
FEWalls
Five billion years —
we must find a new home.
Five billion years —
the earth falls into the sun’s embrace
and will not let her go.
Our species needs five billion years
to burn the dross from our souls,
shame, the wick of the burning candle.
Holy Father-Mother-Creator-God of the galaxies
beyond our own, owner of the infinite
colors of infinitude, let us learn our lessons now
so when this moment comes,
we have already learned to fly.
Early March and the willows,
brown and gaunt,
remember they are beautiful,
first in the golden slant of the morning light
then soon, from within themselves, the palest green,
a hue, innocent somehow,
as if hopefulness suffused their limbs
and we are allowed
to begin anew.
The shrine within me.
Dew on the blades of grass
shines on my dream lake.
A feather drifts by,
aimless wanderer stop here.
Oh, it is a moth!
The koi opens his mouth,
all the colors of his vest
feed the tourists well.
Bench next to the hedge,
how I long to sleep on it.
Please, stay on the path!
The jets overhead,
the river of cars flows by,
the silence within.
While in the garden,
I think of wine to buy guests
who may never come.
The ground is too full.
The roots of the cedar now
must pierce the surface.
Endless wandering,
door of anticipation,
beauty cleanses all.
The breeze on the face.
The freeway by the garden:
don’t listen to me.
F.E.Walls
Even desperate for water in the desert
the dead must be washed, every part,
to stand before God clean.
Hands bound, feet bound,
the child lies on the ground,
the skull too big for stick-bones.
Quiet the child, so quiet
as if she were already
listening to God comfort her.
FEWalls
One clove of garlic, chopped,
sautéed in olive oil,
a handful of spinach leaves
steamed, rice noodles boiled.
An Arctic freeze
settles on the city
too dry for snow,
the ground frozen and stiff.
A squirrel walks the top
of the fence toward the firs
looking for something tasty,
finding little.
Place setting for one
at the table, a vase of roses
flown in from Chile,
dark now at every window.
FEWalls
(“I found within me an invincible summer.” Albert Camus )
You have wasted your time,
messed up,
squandered your money.
You have
destroyed your health,
& you bristle with blame and resentment.
Listen. You have the courage.
to keep living
no matter what.
Remember, a tree
planted by the rivers of water
shall not wither.
FEWalls
The newborn, screaming, red-faced,
held by his feet, upside-down,
slapped, pinched into that first
cry, his first breath angry, the mother
unconscious, gutted on the table, her leg
broken, her arm broken, hauled in 9-months
pregnant, shrapnel in her belly,
the house blown to smithereens around her.
All that death. The baby’s
heart silent, the dust, the rubble,
the bombs, almost the last
doctor in ancient Aleppo
saying to a nurse,
“Hand me the scalpel.”
FEWalls
Krista was an amazing leader, as usual. Her theme was nurturance.
First, before the Warm-up, we stood in a circle, and she had us close our eyes and feel our feet relax and open the top-of-our head chakra. She said, “Take a few minutes to move in any way you want” which we did. She shook a shaker style noisemaker to give us a beat. After that, with our eyes open, we went around the circle and made a shape to show how our energy felt at the moment.
Krista put on some music, and we did a Walk/Stop/Run in which we connected with others in the room. After this, we let a partner happen. Sara was my partner. We made shapes with our partner both slowly moving to a shape, and then moving quickly to a shape. Sara and I had a great time doing a ballet together. We made VERY unusual shapes. Delightful. She has a dance background that showed through. (Also, she once took a welding class at Seattle College in order to work in the shipyards years ago. Rosie the Riveter!)
We did the Follow the Leader form with partners. Partner Number One made faces that Partner Number Two imitated. Then we went back and forth making face-shapes at will with the other imitating the face-shape. I played with MaryAnn. Lorraine said during the Noticing that it hurt to make faces due to her Parkinsons.
Krista took the “I can talk about “ form and used it in an unusual way. This time we talked in gibberish. We kept the same partner as before. We went back and forth saying, “I can talk about (fill in the blank with gibberish),” but not talking about it at length. Then, we “talked” with our partner at length about a topic we had mentioned in gibberish. After this, we took the topic that we had “talked” about in gibberish at length, and we danced it with our partner as a witness. I did the gibberish and the dance about reading my poetry tomorrow evening as a featured reader at a poetry venue. Afterward, we did Noticing with our partner.
Then, the entire group divided into groups of three. First, in our small group, we went around the group using a word Krista gave us and singing about it individually. Then, Krista had us do the same thing with different words but for the entire group. She had us sings about words like Homelessness. (I sang: “The Jungle. The Jungle. The Beast in the Jungle. Amen.”) She gave other groups words like “Politics,” “Urban Planning,” “Nail Polish. Our group played with the word, “Body Piercings.” I sang, “When I lived in Africa, many did body piercings. They pierced this (pointed to my ears); they pierced that (pointed to my nose) and, they pierced … (I threw up my hands), “OMG, you’re kidding!”
We ended by doing a toning song. As usual, she had us start incrementally by trying out different ways to tone. Then, she set up a rhythm sound sequence (form: foundation sound, decoration sound, decoration sound), and we started to make tones. We really got in the groove and kept it going for about eight or so minutes. We really sounded wonderful! Terrific morning!!
Crowned
“king of the gods” in high school,
caped with scepter in hand, a gentle smile,
the basketball star in our tiny world,
at 21, a lieutenant in Vietnam.
Bombs
fell on the green villages
perimeters strafed and over-run
maimed bodies,
youth,
sanity,
all sacked up together like shades of rice
before the boiling pot.
Carved
your name
on marble,
held in place
by those who died before
and after you,
carved on black
marble reflecting back the twisted mouths
holding grief high and tight,
hands offering medals,
roses,
poems
to names on a wailing wall.
FEWalls
A Long Perspective 