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“Colors of spring have turned upside down.
Red once burned underfoot, now hangs over the horizon--a blood bruise where sky
smashed itself against hills. Green once gathered in the quick-shaping clouds carrying a mix of sand and rain and left quickly as it arrived; now it cushions your steps, hides the evidence of bones.”
― Contested Terrain
Red once burned underfoot, now hangs over the horizon--a blood bruise where sky
smashed itself against hills. Green once gathered in the quick-shaping clouds carrying a mix of sand and rain and left quickly as it arrived; now it cushions your steps, hides the evidence of bones.”
― Contested Terrain
“We sit close, but without touching; a thousand flickering
images pass through the screen. A hand stretches toward another,
stopping just short. A woman makes fists in front
of a pile of rubble, and though we can’t understand her words,
we know. Anyone who ever knew someone who’s lost knows.
Anyone not turned to piles of stone. Tonight, who has a right
to risk bringing life into this? The images shift—
flashing blue lights, twisted metal, the angry eyes
and stiff lips of fearful men, a Glock here, a Bushmaster
there, refugee fingers wrapped around chain link, and flags,
an abundance of flags. Mothers show premature
wrinkles without shame. Sirens lure the fearful men
into the rocks. Tonight, with effort, the hands find
each other. It’s the job before us, the not turning to stone.”
― Contested Terrain
images pass through the screen. A hand stretches toward another,
stopping just short. A woman makes fists in front
of a pile of rubble, and though we can’t understand her words,
we know. Anyone who ever knew someone who’s lost knows.
Anyone not turned to piles of stone. Tonight, who has a right
to risk bringing life into this? The images shift—
flashing blue lights, twisted metal, the angry eyes
and stiff lips of fearful men, a Glock here, a Bushmaster
there, refugee fingers wrapped around chain link, and flags,
an abundance of flags. Mothers show premature
wrinkles without shame. Sirens lure the fearful men
into the rocks. Tonight, with effort, the hands find
each other. It’s the job before us, the not turning to stone.”
― Contested Terrain
“...that place where what you thought was true, has started to shift.”
― Contested Terrain
― Contested Terrain
“It is the child
turning his head,
wanting to breathe something more
than soil-warm dinner, the one day
laughter of his own child
which makes a man
in a foreign land chamber a round.
Swift but surgical, his decision closes
heaven‟s door―but decide he must
should it open again for anyone
willing to
wipe the dirt from his face and stand."
--from Shepherd Bodhisattva”
― Overwatch
turning his head,
wanting to breathe something more
than soil-warm dinner, the one day
laughter of his own child
which makes a man
in a foreign land chamber a round.
Swift but surgical, his decision closes
heaven‟s door―but decide he must
should it open again for anyone
willing to
wipe the dirt from his face and stand."
--from Shepherd Bodhisattva”
― Overwatch




