They have closed the schools for three weeks.
The children who are resilient go to their houses
(if they have them) to annoy their
In light of April being National Poetry Month, every Monday in April, Justice Unbound will publish a poem. I will select the poems, by nationally recognized poets, because they speak in one way or another to what we are all
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In this monthly column, I will briefly introduce and share two or three poems. This column builds on the five-part National Poetry month series in April. In the wrap up to that series, I suggested using an approach similar to Lectio Divina when we read a poem for spiritual companionship.
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April is National Poetry Month. This year on the first Monday of National Poetry Month I shared a poem with the readers of Unbound. It was a joy to do and I thank Lee Catoe and Christian Iosso for the opportunity. Poetry is an important part of my spiritual and
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In light of April being National Poetry Month, every Monday in April, Unbound will publish a poem. I will select poems by nationally recognized poets because they speak in one way or another to what we are all facing in light of pandemic. This is the last in this ‘National
More
In light of April being National Poetry Month, every Monday in April, Justice Unbound will publish a poem. I will select the poems, by nationally recognized poets, because they speak in one way or another to what we are all facing in light of pandemic.
More
In light of April being National Poetry Month, every Monday in April Justice Unbound will publish a poem. The poems, by nationally recognized poets, will be selected because they speak in one way or another to what we are all facing in light of pandemic. Poetry is an important part
More
We are grieving…mourning…lamenting Oh God why!? Oh God help us! Oh God we are suffering! When we wave through the windows of those with disease When we see our loved ones dying on screens No touch, no goodbyes, no last words muttered We are grieving…mourning…lamenting We are grieving…mourning…lamenting Oh God
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They have closed the schools for three weeks.
The children who are resilient go to their houses
(if they have them) to annoy their parents (if
they have them) because no one has explained that
it is okay for the world to change, that does not
mean it’s ending. We realize that that is
The poem was written for the group of women who have accompanied one another on our journeys ever since our time as high school classmates at Emma Willard School in the 1960s. We remained in daily - often hourly- communication throughout the impeachment process. Our outrage and grief was always
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Cupping lips with mitted hands to summon us
inside, she offers fresh-baked bread wafting over our clamor,
some of us debating decades-old wounds such as who broke the china Mom left behind, priceless, irreplaceable, some of our hands guiltily empty because we forgot
promised sides. And there, new neighbors won’t stop laughing
from
Well It is barbaric. A hum drowning out the chattering lakeshore. Unwanted penetration and a mechanized din. A tower shining like a false moon through the trees we planted. God, whose Son was stripped and savaged, Feels the lash in a piney corner of nowhere. Clean Surely God cannot be
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