Tag Archives: reconciliation

The Apology

While what’s broken mends
We gather one another’s tears
Frightened by these raw words
Shared in earnest honesty

For our trembling hands
Suddenly afraid to touch
For the truths, unearthed
We longed to rebury in sand

For fragile trust
We thread between to weave again
I will share with you what no one else has known
What hidden shadows still inform who I am

Reach out, light one, I have much to own
Though you found the strength to take a stand
A midst the rubble of our yesterdays
What I wish to take back, were it that I can

Why do you still blame yourself
When there is nothing else you could have done
How could you not be carried away
By wild waves, compelling you too far from land

I led the way, in the space that was ours
And almost lost you; of course you ran
Let the sea of forgiveness enfold our hearts
You were caught in fierce tides you did not understand

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The Morrigan

Waiting, watchful
Beady eyes,
Cold, coal crow,
Follows me.

Harsh her piercing
Grating cries
Cah, cah, calling me
I run, terrified to turn, to see.

But it is time
For battles to be won,
Reclaim the sovereignty that’s mine,
Declare independence … my own.

Red veils fall
On stark terrain,
The stretching past
The road before,

Survey the ground,
Bide your hours,
Face it head-on, don’t back down
Fight for all you’re worth.

She will lead you where you’re bound.
Demand what’s yours,
And then break free.
The other side to our path. you see,

To shine, star bright, across the sky,
You must not be afraid to burn.
Strike a kindling of flame, the old to die:
In time, this balance, you will learn.

Waiting, watchful
Beady eyes
Cold, coal crow
Follows me.

Harsh her piercing
Grating cries
Cah, cah, calling me
When I turn around, what will happen? I wait to see.

I woke up with a sadness that is not entirely mine.

Nothing but tears
Nothing but tears
For years, for lives  I’ve never known
Something that cannot be said

That I can only feel
As real as waves on sand<
As real as what whispers to me
Of the small bits of earth and sky I am.

Nothing but songs,
Nothing but songs
And the long wail
That just reaches home.

Colors fade, races blur,
We all want our children safe,
To keep alive what we always were.

All around the world, the eyes
And hands, of every people ever been —
They hold their children in their arms
And look around at what is left to them.

Nothing but shades of blue and green
Of brown and red and grey
Tearing souls from ancestral lands,
It still goes on today.

Nothing left but stories,
Nothing left but songs
And the few who can share where we come from
And to what place we might belong.

Why carry fear and hate inside
Toward the generations of the past?
Are there ways to heal those kinds of wounds?
Build and love and not destroy
To make sense of us at last.

Stop the world, and just reach out,
Can we not forgive?
I think, before we can be reconciled,
We must sing all the songs,

Remember how our world was made,
For each story has some truth
We all have the right to live
To pass these things on to our youth.

Differences are beautiful
And differences aside
We are at once just who we are
We can wipe away the others’ tears
The ones we each have cried.

Reflected in the wild sea,
Reflected in the desert sands,
We meet each other
Eye to eye,

And having found ourselves there,
Mirrored back to us,
Perhaps we'll love,
Or at least understand.</

We will sing all our songs,
We will cry all our tears,
And there will be strength to move on
Free the world of control and fear
And start to trust each other here.

The Illusion of Separateness

If you step back from it, you are almost moved to tears, but If you step up to it, you are almost moved to kill. If you step away from it, you are what appears to disappear, and once you manage to leave it behind you most certainly will. If you confront it you will attempt its destruction, and if you avoid it, it will destroy you. If you rise above it, you will be moved to fly, but if you even as much as notice it, you will never move.

If you take the lower road, you will never forget it, but if you take the higher road, you will always be remembered. If you define it you will surely lose yourself, and until it is finally named it will make sure you never know who you are. For if you were to say the name, point out what it is, it would lose it’s power over you. And yet by giving it the names of silence, you forfeit the power hidden within your self. If you ever try to lose it, you will be moved to find it again, and if you ever come across it, you will be moved to run. And if you try to hide it, it will come for you, but were you to shine a light on it, there you would see nothing.

Wild, wild, those unacknowledged things that shake the foundations of our friendships and histories, Taking on a life of their own. Wild, wild, what of you is forgotten yet always remembered? No permission for expression, it turns on it’s creator. For if you have ever lived, you would by nature be this wild creature. What happened that now we do not recognize our own passion, or understand that fear is love pushed away until it has no where to turn except against itself? Whenever you fear it, you give it more power, and whenever you choose to love it, it will no longer be needed.

Tamed, tamed, our fierceness, our passions, our love and our fear, our voices grown silent. Tamed, we continue the taming of our selves, our children. How is it we fool ourselves into believing the lie that no wildness is ever lurking, that we have squelched the last drops of honor out of our very souls, that no drop of resilience reddens the cells in our blood as they surface? Oh if you know it, you will not believe such foolish things, and if everyone knew it, justice would no longer be necessary.

Look at me, and do not look away, and give me one justification for war, one reason why the daughter cells we continue to divide are not as their earlier generations, one and the same. Convince me we are not the same, that is, if you dare to do it. Ah my friend, if you never recognize the endless knot out of which all is woven, nothing else will matter. For you, truth will ring in hollow empty shells. The light to you will be dull and demure. Sounds to you will be distant echos of dreams. For you the world will never be more than it seems. For you see, it will not dawn on you to turn on the light within yourself, to make your own music.

If instead, turning, you saw the pattern of the intertwining, you would be moved to bury your anger for each other in the sand. And after so suddenly changing into friends, what would it be like, then? You have forgotten what it would be like. And so you let it polarize you, fragmenting into opposites: right and wrong, this and that, us and them, the changer and the changed. These opposites are just one face of it, and turning again face to face with it, we come face to face with ourselves. It is that powerful, you know. It’s power lies in our belief in it. We can wave it away with a hand. And what is strong enough to drive us apart, is within our power to come together again. For we need not return to a place we have never left, or gather pieces of a whole that has never been parted. It is all that we are.