Friday, June 18, 2010


Tiny maple tree. I hold my hand to thee. From the sky you fall. And make your home here with us, all.

This spring as the ground warmed, small-ish trees appeared again. Many made our garden home. Ask anyone, I'd plant a billion trees if I could. We'll have to settle for three. My dear husband planted our tiny trees for us, one for each of our beautiful children. Love trees, all things. ♥

Friday, June 11, 2010

calling

"I've come here to this place to speak truths. Because, we vigil for a great war; a war many of us rarely know we are fighting.
It's the front lines, here, in our souls; our hearts. And it is apparent, every time you look to a face and see a person as your fellow human, your twin warrior...without the notice of color, the query of legality, the question of nationality, or the examination of sexuality. You fight this war with every awkward glance to your exposed nursing breast. It is apparent, with every carefully researched cloth diaper you lovingly diaper your baby with and every orange-like-the-sun yolked farm-raised egg you fry; you are on the front lines.
Here, amidst a seemingly lovely community, we are close enough to freedom to choose our own choices. We are still free enough here to make the difference and initiate the revolution.
Our time is significant. Our days and years are numbered. The freedoms will dissipate one by one.
So, I call on you today, to promote peace, yes, and to be intolerant of hatreds. I call on you to remain protectors of our lovely planet and remain conscience and responsible parents to our future. But more, I call on you to become active. I call on you to organize. I call on you to initiate. You must be RADICAL! The time to live in comfort has passed us, and with that passing we have been left with a crumbling world, a revolting planet, corrupted governments, and a society blinded.

fight song

You don't suppose we'll find peace.
You dream at night that this war will never cease.
Don't you let your hope die out please.

The sun flies through the trees.
Your tears give you away.
On this bright day, bright day.

Across the ocean there's a dying man,
cradling a gun in his hand.

And he looks like you, but he's not what we're supposed to be.

Dream song

The tears will flow.
The rivers will bend...
The breaking arrow of the crashing bow
Sure as your love flutters to an end.

The thrashing bright
A killers knife
the waning, waxing in the night.
Shadows shiver
body quivers
Rising sun
death to shadows of moonlight.