Poem #23–April 23, 2019

“I NEED  to Do This”

We all followed Bonnie’s orders–

“We need the bathroom cleaner.  And,”

she surveyed the room, top to bottom,

“the swiffer mop thing.”

We nodded and tiredly gathered her requested items.

We stood ready to get more, if needed,

watching her attack the toilet, the shower stall, sinks.

Seeming satisfied, she grabbed the mop,

assaulting the floor with a vengeance.

Little One quietly asked, “Why are you doing this, Bonnie?”

Without stopping, Bonnie said, “We need the money.”

I offered, “Not when we are all so tired and…”

“OKAY!” she raised her voice, stopping to look at us all.

“I can’t make anything right!  I can’t make what we have gone through better!

But I can clean.  I can keep you busy, myself busy!”

Voice spoke, saying, “WE don’t need to be busy!  We hate this place!

We don’t want to be here where a dead woman was!  We want to go home!”

Bonnie looked at him, at all of us, knowing he spoke the truth–for each of us.

Quietly, she said, “I refuse to be afraid, hide.  I refuse to let you all, too.

This is my answer.  It’s a job.  You’re just helping.”

Mumbling, pleading, begging– “Please, let’s go now.”

Bonnie sets her shoulders, her face and jaw.


We nod, silent.

If she needed to do it, we loved her enough to help her.

Maybe, just maybe, we all needed to do this.

We waited for her next orders.


Poem #21–April 21, 2019

The Look

First a snapping of the fingers.

The giggling in the pews continues.

Another snap–the head turns toward the giggles.

Eyes slowly rise, seeing first the lips drawn tight, the nostrils flaring.

Please let it be an eye roll–but no.

It is the LOOK.

No supper.  The wait till your father hears about this.

Giggles cease as the LOOK penetrates, bringing dread and fear.

The LOOK reaches the stomach, causes the gut to cramp.

NOTHING says more than the LOOK.

No one wants church to be over now–

Not after receiving the LOOK.

Small minds briefly hear the preacher,

And wonder…

Did Jesus give doubting Thomas the LOOK?

It must work the same on everyone.

The LOOK makes believers of all who receive it.

Ah, to master…the LOOK.


Poem #20–April 20,2019

For Sure

“You got this?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says.

“You’re sure you got this?”

He nods his head excitedly.

“You got this and you’re gonna make lunch?”

“Easy, peasy,” he grins broadly.

Looks of doubt all around.

“Okay, it’s all yours then.”

He looks around, asks us to give him some room.

We leave, not reluctantly,

since we really didn’t want to watch anyway.

Humming can be heard.

A pie tin is pulled out of the cupboard.

The refrigerator opens and closes.

We don’t look.

Another sound, one familiar to us all–

the microwave popping open, slammed shut.

We wonder…then, from the kitchen–

“Oh my god!  Look at the sparks!” his gleeful voice yells.

Feet running!  Microwave door popped open in panic!

“You didn’t put a metal pan in there did you?” asked fearfully.

“Yeah and you should have seen the sparks!”

“Never do that!  NEVER!”

The huge grin on his face fades quickly,

as he realized he blew it… but not sure how.

“I thought you said you had it!”

Another makes a hurried inspection for damage.

“Well, I thought I did,” he mumbles.

Then, “So can we still eat the grilled cheese?”

Heads wag in disbelief, but relieved the house still stands.

“Next time you’re asked…”

“I know.  I know.  And I am sorry…

honest truth.”

An embarrassed smile from him

and a dilapidated grilled(?) cheese sandwich offered.

He will never make lunch alone again…




Poem #19–April 19, 2019

Questions for Good Friday

Those who claim Christianity celebrate this day,

see it as the day of sacrifice and redemption.

In this culture, human sacrifice is revered–

but other cultures are reviled for human sacrifices.


This culture claims judgement of others by way of their sacrificial lamb.

They alone claim salvation while others are doomed to eternal hell

for not believing as they do.


This sacrificial savior was a man of color,

a homeless man who loved and taught love for others to all who would listen.

Has he returned, unbeknownst to the great leaders who tout him?

Did he come back as Martin Luther King, Jr–

assassinated for protesting non-violently against oppression,

advocating love and unity of all peoples.

Did this savior come back as Mahatma Gandhi,

to advocate peace and freedom and was imprisoned?

Or maybe the savior is among us now,

as congresswoman Ilhan Omar, standing against injustice towards humanity

and being threatened with death by the highest in the land?

The message is always the same–

Love one another and help each other be free in body and soul.

This culture believes in demons and Satan and hell fire–

reincarnation of evil and its minions.

Can this culture afford to NOT Believe in reincarnation of GOOD?

This culture crucifies those they judge as different.


Is it because truth and freedom for all — love,

destroys evil and cannot be allowed?

Those that claim a savior will celebrate–

never realizing evil celebrates also at the death of who could have been a savior.

Two factions come together in celebration–

those who claim GOOD and those who know EVIL.

And we ask, what happened?  But more so–


The children people of love protect are in cages,

are starving in war-torn Yemen.

If this culture celebrates today yet does not acknowledge the pain–


Poem #18–April 18, 2019


Money is only paper and coinage,

or is it?

Money keeps a roof over one’s head,

food in one’s mouth,

medicine for the body.

Connotation of money, not definition?

Many think it buys success, loyalty,

and sadly, respect.

It can buy a president, a senator, a congressperson.

It can buy an attorney general, a cabinet,

and the promise of money buys voters.

What money cannot buy is the sound of a pod of whales,

a pet that adores one and lives only for its human.

It cannot buy a friend sitting with one in an emergency room,

singing songs to calm the fears, holding a hand.

Money cannot buy a hug, empathy from love.

And yet, we need money to survive–or do we?

We have been in a position to have money,

And we have been totally without it.

Money can’t buy the full moon nor stop it.

Money cannot whisper, “I love you.”

Truly, we don’t crave what money can buy,

But what it cannot.

An empty stomach can still laugh, cry,

treasure a true friend.

An aching body won’t stop aching with money,

But rather from the kindness that makes the pain less

coming from one who cares.

Yes, money buys people, and for some, their souls.

We would rather starve and suffer with a kindred soul

than have all the money in the world.

Truth, love, friendship are the money of the soul.

Our souls.

Poem #17–April 17, 2019


“Blue Jay at 9 o’clock!


“Get the eggs under you!

I’m on my way!”

“He’s screaming!

Headed right for the nest!”

Birds zoom in, propelled,

wings flapping at the blue jay!

Beaks snip and snap to save the eggs in the nest!

Screaming blue jay!

Screaming protectors!

Finally–the blue jay flies off, in a panic, defeated.

The victors check to make sure the eggs are unharmed.

After each inspects the eggs,

They leave–one by one.

Feeling safe and secure,

the little mama settles on her eggs once more

and she sleeps the sleep of the safe.

That’s what friends are for.