crying ‘peace, peace’
when there is no peace
seeking justice without mercy,
touting freedom without choice,
demanding change without forgiveness,
and claiming love without truth
clouds without water
race across the mortal landscape
in the slipstream of the profoundly wounded
the illusion of a righteous downpour
lacking all that sustains the heart and grows the soul
while in the shadows
death still lingers
for those who hunger and thirst
Author: Rita
In the winter of life and still trying to figure this sh*t out.
A Born Stoic
rarely do I fill my cup of sorrow to overflowing with tears; nor do I roar at the pain of loss or the injustices that litter my path I was born to face the darkness from the same measured self with which I engage the light - knowing each is a part of my journey to passersby it seems indifferent; to the soul I carry it is acceptance acceptance that I will control that which I am able to; and find strength and wisdom in the experience of that which I cannot
Impossible Dreamers
in the darkest of times
they can still see their Star
it has illuminated their
path from first breath
they are drawn inexplicably to
the battlefields of life;
held steadfast by unseen hands
they refuse to stay in the dirt
when life knocks them down
that which tries their faith
inevitably strengthens it
they will shield broken hearts
and hold dying hands -
drawing strength from what
the world calls loss or defeat
setbacks only motivate them
they are unwilling to bow to
the challenges before them
they will never accept the yoke
of terror or inferiority
the world would enslave them with
oh, how we need these
warriors of hope and love -
the impossible dreamers
for they are the ones who know
victory isn’t defined by
circumstance or outcome
victory is believing
you still can and must
victory is never giving up!
Witness
I watched
as it was led away
by what is
an outcast now -
a teacher lacking students
in a world knowing everything
it is said a prophet
is without honor
in their own home
the same could be
said of Time
I stand here
a witness
to the exile of
what was
knowing
it will never be again
