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
A Long Perspective 