a casualty of travel

mp3 player
stolen a year ago in brazil
cd player re-appeared after becoming obsolete
cds in a bag
the broken keyboard key
a backpack stuffed full and snagged
holes in it and fraying
as thoughts are penned on the amtrak magazine
another delay
another hour late
where one is early, the other is late
in time and money they even out
repeat and regain
fall over again
walking words down the sidewalk
packages heavy
crinkling paper
wet sidewalk and rain here
what we arent used to
my life becomes
another casualty of travel

DC to be homeless

Ecuador falls fast tonight
to the hopeless woes that plague these streets
I'm back home
here in DC
Where beggars on the metro climb
into the corners of my mind
knowing that little girl in junior high
was once on the street and how could she be
just like this lady who begs me
"spare some change"
to be thankful is to be trite
to be grateful gives us some power, some might
to be glad that we arent in the cold
to be glad for warmth when it snows
thankful we are not homeless here
thankful we have never been near
hunger
homelessness
hate or
hurt
we are so blessed
we have so much

Overwhelming

Feel the power overwhelming
Underwhelming
Welling up from inside
To overflow, overflow
The Everflow
Flows on and out
From us
From the in-betweens redemption and hell
From backing down to the chase
To cut back and cut across
This great divide
Oh, Hallelujah
She'll scream when she realizes the flood
Does not recede
Or recieve this chastisement
This grief
Aching weary hearts to burn
The douse in the deep
In the flood of this wisdom
The flood of this love
Overwhelm, underwhelm
Overflow undertow
Be with me
Be peaceably everything
The breath and weep
Oh Gloria
It comes across again
af lood
The best intentions were intentioned wrong
And peace lost
The water gone
Oh flood me, flow over me
Deep to deep to deep to deep
Let the edge of the night creep
Backwards and realize its grip on me
Oh flood, Oh flood, Oh Flood to come

Lose Your Soul

What if I
Was one of the unlucky ones
Who gained the whole world and lost their soul?
What would happen,
Who would I become
If I hardened myself to what brings me to tears?
Would I die happy rich
Or rather die happy poor?

With the world so hurt and dying
How could I begin to care?
Or else I’ll end up a mess
And never move anywhere.
Why the frosted nights don’t seem so cold
When I’m warm inside my home.
I’ll just pretend I didn’t see
The man on the street corner
Begging mercy or money from me.

If I can’t bear to help everyone
How can I choose the lucky ones?
When they aren’t grateful,
Who in this world ever is?
We care and call it caring
When we send our little checks.
How can this be caring
If we never strain our necks to see
Outside of our own windows
Outside our comfort zone?
When will we embrace the needy
Will then we never fail?

The Unpainted Picture

All the while I was painting you
I was painting you
I couldn’t see that you
Were never painting me.
Amid these false lies and fireflies
I whisper that nothing broken here
Can ever be fixed.
Nothing torn through here
Will ever be repaired.
Oh, sweet repair to come from
Not my own hands, but hearts above.
The song I sang was wrong
For you, not who it should
For them, not for Him.
But you didn’t sing me again.
You sang another
You sang another lie, lie with them.
Beset the blossoms in my hair,
Of my own doing, not your speech.
Not His hands, not your eyes.
To me they stray, from me
They hate.
Oh sing the song again.
Broken heart Rejoicer,
Repair after tornadoes,
Bless after hurricanes,
Sleep after insomnia,
Rest in my hands.

Some Things Never Change

Some things never change
Like how three years later
We all look the same
And we’re all just surviving
And getting along
A long long way from where I was.
I’ve ended up just to be
Here again this blue room
All within, without, with much undoing
We’re all here again, still the same.
Deaths and births, still the earth turns.
Turns wide on its axis
Hill over hill, re-creating, re-making
Re-marking, re-birthing.
Oh these hills
I grew up in.
Oh these hills
I now loathe.
Oyster beds beneath my feet,
Wretched stinking smells from the beach.
Oh these hills disappear.
Find grace and truth in a new place,
A new world.

Human

Wash the darkness from their skin
They’re not human yet
So poor like dirt from the earth
To be a little more than a charity case.
Is the earth alive?
All the people, all over the world?
If yes, Julia, they are, then why
Why do we treat such pigs as human
And humans as such less than that?
If we played the same hunger games,
If we always remained the same,
Then we’d all be inhuman.
For what makes us human?
Ability to talk, to walk to reason?
For those who can’t, are they naught?
Are they really inhuman?
The dark, the mute, the deaf, the lame,
The slow, the blind, the old, the weak?
We are more than the words we know how to speak.
We are more than the angels we reason fly above us.
We are more than the gravel we walk
Whether dry or wet beneath.
We are.
We are.
With skin as dark as pavement
We walk.
Into the sun to bleach our hair
We walk.
Burn our faces,
All human.
As we move,
All human.
We can learn these truths.
From little ones we learn these truths.