Once and for all,
let love just be love,
mustering as much
kindness as we can
when and where we
finally can,
Setting aside factory
compiled fragments,
cracks in the sidewalk
we treat like canyons,
differences of opinion
we treat as fractures.
More at http://jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com/.
Reach down
in this broken
world to the ragged
and help them
do not perpetuate
the distance
you find between
yourselves
do not purchase
that dream
of dust and dire
circumstances.
I awoke from my
living nightmare
into your American
dream
I sense a void
growing
wider each
passing day
A contempt
for this world
and forfeiture
of hope
This is as good
as it gets
and that’s not
good enough
For the sake
of the self
I lost
long ago
I wish to see
in my lifetime
the downfall
of a system
That’s bred
a multitude of
indifference
suffering
and disdain
To be replaced
by a new generation
of benevolent souls
Willing to be
the change
that is needed
The sacrifice
to benefit
the all
I need to
nourish in myself
this patience
for loving
my neighbor
for being a kind
source of life
but the process
is slow
is difficult.
you say everything is still okay
yet I’m not seeing it that way
what happened to compassion
now that it’s out of fashion
kindness and sharing have vanished
for the poor and those speaking spanish
swahili, yoruba, amharic and arabic
africans, inuit, hindi and aramaic
whatever happened to convivencia
tolerance, intelligence and paciencia
if you’re red, yellow, black or brown
is it really safe for you to hang around
everyone’s hoping for another chance
for a hero to come by and take a stance
to rekindle all the love that’s in our hearts
a nation of immigrants can play kinder parts
She needs you
to notice, so go on
It’s okay to notice
It’s okay to love her
Just tell her once
she’s beautiful
like she needs you to
Just once
before it’s too late
Ever notice her
because I know you do
so make the most
of noticing.
I’d like a small amount
of kindness. A silver dish
of helpful offerings from a place
that’s humble. I grew to understand
that shoulders are made for lifting
up the young. I am not accustomed
to begging. We help each other.
The sight of chopped wood
in the back of a pickup trucks reminds
me of the warmth of a potbellied stove.
Shards of kindling in the floor, being
careful of the splinters.
I grew to understand that small
kindnesses are what life’s built on,
that holding on to past bitterness
poisons the spirit, drags down the
face, lays sagging on the talk
like a tired dog, long baying,
now hoarse, at empty wind.
More at http://jddehartwriting.blogspot.com.