The Blue Lights

A single motorcycle

Led the silent parade

Face serious, determined

Eyes focused ahead

Leaning a little forward

A second motorcycle followed

A copy of the first

Then blue flashing lights

Announcing the long black car

The faces on the other side of the street

Solemn

Some holding small flags

A young man with his hat off

An older woman saluting

The long black car

Passed us by

I didn’t know this hero

Byt I felt a deep sadness

For his wife, his children,

His parents, his friends,

His co-workers

His neighbors

Even the people whom

He probably gave a ticket to

For speeding

Just in front of my church

We all silently stood by

While the blue flashing lights

Slowly passed

A parade of blue from Locust Grove Police.

Henry County Sheriff

Our neighbors from Newton and Butts

One from Eatonton, and Border Patrol

And many, many others

The tears slipped out as the procession continued

No one spoke

We all just stood and felt the wound

When one of us is injured

We are all injured.

If we sit at home

And watch it on TV

We don’t see everyone else’s pain

Close up

As I stood and watched each policeman

Drive by,

Some wiping their tears,

Others holding a strong face

Determined to keep it together

I felt the thread that binds us all together

When one human suffers, and we experience together

It is no less painful, but it connects us

And helps us heal..

Because we were all injured that day

Our brother, neighbor, son, father, fellow citizen took the bullet for us

And I honored him by standing in silence.

Thank you to everyone who showed up today

So we could grieve together.

We are stronger for it.

Love binds us together.

I think I'm in love with Frida Kahlo

I think I’m in love with Frida Kahlo.

Everytime I see her face, whether a photo or a beautiful broken self-portrait,
I feel my heart lunge outwards.

Like it’s trying to reach her.

This woman, so broken physically, yet so immensely spiritually whole.

Colored her pain, her despair

She broke through the brokeness

Like reaching through a solid wall with her bare hand

She danced so close to death, on a daily basis

Yet did not retreat into a shell

Or the depths of depression

Her drive pulls me to her

I want to brush her hair

And weave beautiful ribbons in her braids

I want to walk to the market and find brilliant flowers

To dress up her up-do

I want to iron her dresses

And shine her shoes

Because I find her to be the freeest woman I’ve ever known.

And a free woman is a beauty unlike any other

Response to EB Browning Sonnet XXVI

Fractured family

The empty spot, where the man should be, would be, could be

Is like a home hit by a bolt of lightening

A wall missing leaving the home open

On one side

Vulnerable to wind, rain, sheets of ice

For years, I imagined a new wall, covering the home

The material would be solid and strong

Or would it be pink with flowers and fancy decorations

Or simply a sheer screen, veiling us from the harsh world

But thin enough to see the beauty on the other side

Maybe just a series of windows, from floor to ceiling, no drapes

Just an avenue of sunlight to drape my inner world

Then, a moment came, when I forgot the open wall was there

And walked outside

And stood in the rain, felt the ice on my feet, and the winds rush through my hair

And realized the gift of the open wall took me directly towards my dreams