Mending the Broken World

If you haven’t noticed
we are living in a broken world
where the Kingdom of America
is crumbling all around us.
We are the inventor of suspicion—
tea parties and horsemen
in the night
meant to protect
and defend
walk endlessly
away from Walden Pond
and that much hope.
Time now exposes all
our private scars—
near deaths
that act like theft
to our innocent
new beginnings.

Time now measures
the distance we have run
away from simplicity
and frugal ideals
that made our armor
trustworthy and shining
with courage to do the right thing.

I have noticed
the language of change
must be our famous last words
of men and the water of life that alone
will heal the deepest wounds of greed.
We must not shrink in the shadows of mistrust
wagging her scolding finger in our faces—
this mother spooning cod liver oil
into the mouth of Darwin’s Disorder.

Instead, let us smile,
pick up our hammers of truth and compassion,
while we get back to mending our broken fences.

Golden Rule

“Speak your truth,”
she said,
“Put your hands
near your golden voice
and sing the words
gilded with rich metal
and shine from the place
you’ve mined
the most precious nuggets.

Like a crown of fig leaves
preserved and shining atop your head,
you are royal in robes flowing with so much light,
displaying the birth rite of all who believe.

“You glitter,”
she says,
“and the dust of the stars
must remind you to see the whole sky
with an eye for opportunity.”
The temples of the mind
already sing your praises
as you learn to drop your body
and walk away
into the freedom
of darkness.

It means nothing
to hold gold coins in your pockets
like talisman against your fate.
Give them away
to the Palominos
of time.

Open your mouth,
give Midas a gentle word,
and dissolve into a sunrise
of silent bird song.

In this place of nothing you will break open--
pierced by a single ray of undeniable love.