I am married to this earth,
this field, this silence,
even as the ocean offers itself.

I walk  it with my dog on his leash
pulling restlessly ahead,
biting at the frenzy scent trail
he knows exists in the air.

The woods beyond are gray.
So is the sky.  

I hear— the echo of
a  trickling brook.  
My dog, inhales—
the last traces of  
dying greens, the odors
of tantalizing blues yielding
to the coming season.

The horizon reels away
until my eyes can no longer
take it in and the sky matches
the coming night—
contains itself in the field,
in every thing.  

Drops of rain splash
and  fall off my nose
onto my tongue.
The taste is bittersweet.
The scent, silences  
my dog’s barking
with the promise of petrichor.

The hidden brook silently turning
breathes in the renourishment—
the earth, the field,
praise the distant blessing
of a dying Hurricane Debby
bequeathing its last bits
for this life.

In my *******,
I feel the grace
of an unseen promise.
In the walk back home,
I am aware that each
foot thud is full of mud—
the marriage of ocean and land.

Gorgeous Africa, my beautiful Queen
of a thousand unspoken dreams, whose essence
encapsulates the history and heartache of past struggles
—your tears of past, drown your face in drought,
mirroring the resilience and strength that lie
within your vast landscapes and diverse cultures.

Oh land, oh the lands of dusty colored grass,
presenting a canvas painted with stories as ancient
as time itself —the tale of you; a dossal woven with
the threads of triumphs and tribulations,
each chapter a testament to the enduring spirit
of a continent shaped by the ebb and flow of empires
rising and falling.

You, a child in my eyes, a precious gem awaiting
the embrace of nurturing hands and the light of
understanding —desperately needing to be cherished
and loved, your myriad voices and narratives
seeking to rise above the clamor of past
injustices and carved destinies.

Rise, my child, rise high and so mighty,
until your presence eclipses all doubts and shadows,
a beacon of hope and empowerment for all who call
your vast expanse home —lift her up, lift her up-
her people, a call to unity and support in the
collective journey towards a future shaped by
shared dreams and aspirations.

As she is mine, she is ours to cherish and protect,
a legacy that intertwines our fates and whispers of
a shared destiny waiting to be fulfilled
—lift her up, lift her up- her people, for in her
beauty and complexity, we find the reflection of
our shared humanity and interconnection.

Looking back at another year,
Being thankful for things far and near.
The horizon has never been this bright,
The sea of love brimming with glorious light.

Looking back at another year,
Grateful for things small and dear.
Possibilities like soft molding sand,
Hope of adventures crossing sea and land.

O’ country of my blood,
country of my ancestors
I long for you
Your luscious green landscapes
and your highest mountains
Your beautiful waterfalls
and your fountains
The sound of the neighborhood kids
laughing in the streets,
I long for you

A time where we ran outdoors so excited
we forgot to put our shoes on,
sitting on the front porch buying watermelon from the fruit-cart man,
then sharing it with our friends,
I long for you

Wherever I go I belong to you, one day shall my ashes be scattered and soil with you.

When I pick up my pen
        She comes first.
When I land on the dust
         I am a stranger!

Outside on the city streets the wail of sirens
But me! I'm not concerned
'Cos I got *****... ***** made of Iron
Yeah! ***** of Ire..Ron, ***** of I-Iron!!!🎵🎶🎵

Hey Mister I ain't a Boy and I ain't your Son
Me! I'm just a... I'm just an Angel without a gun.

Empyrean Heaven (there is no promised land)



there is no promised land)

the promise is where you stand
at this exact moment, where you
stick the landing every morn best,
best you can, assess the window’s
first delivery of the status of where
you are, whom you are, bent or *****,
empty or full, impoverished or worse,
sated, foolish or brave, (dis) believing
the top of world is planted beneath your
feet; but above, at this the fiery places of

Empyrean Heaven.

Empyrean Heaven, nearest to me, thy there~thee
will find, beyond the heaven of the air and the
heaven of the stars, no land, the incorporeal
existence, carefree, know this you-human,
an unpromised state is the causal residue,
of actions between human to human,
not thy god, irony delicious, earn it
with every thought, instinct, act
deserving of this, this
“unpromised place”


G.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was, declared Saint Basil, a certain condition, older than the birth of the world and proper to the supramundane powers, one beyond time, everlasting, without beginning or end. In it the Creator and Producer of all things perfect the works of His art, a spriritual light befitting the blessedness of those who love the Lord asks of you~human.


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Jul 3 7:59am