Blog Archives

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With Each Dead Child We Welcome More Hate into the World

As a people, we have ceded our power to reverse the decisions of our rulers who make incessant war and continue to fund a global Empire with our dollars and the lives of our soldiers.  There is essentially no anti-war movement in the country save for a few websites and valorous anti-war heroes who have been marginalized to the fringes of political non-discourse.

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The Sounds of Silence: a Hushed America Is…Waiting

There’s an eerie silence over the land; I’m hearing friends far and near speak of it with concern and wonderment.  Sure, the chattering political classes are doing their same old pompous picayune pissing contests, calling the electoral horseraces as though there’ s freaking election next week…never asking any of the right questions, content to keep to the scripted menu of allowable faux-discussion.

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We Are One; let’s put that into action.

Thank you, Sweet Honey in the Rock for cleansing my soul and my dusty ass of its usual misanthropy this morning; I swear I’ll try to remember your clear message more in the future; it rings like a bell, and the sound vibrates my very bones.  May it stay with me, and with any of you who feel it, too.

The message images send my spirit cartwheeling and careening through the cosmos, collecting more bits of the luminous stardust of which we’re made…  And I can feel some understanding that all time happens at once, and echoes go forward as well as backward…in time.

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She’s Leaving Home

She sat on the bed in her sister’s room.  Linda had left for college a few weeks before, and she had finally been allowed to move into her large lavender room with the ruffled curtains framing the picture windows that looked out onto East Twin Lake. She watched the occasional Sailfish or Sunfish skimming along the glassy surface, carefree as the white geese who would beat their wings backwards floop, floop while they blew along the water for a soft landing.  She could see the pond lilies on the near edge of the lake, and remembered once rowing a boat near to them, and diving among the mass of round green pads to harvest some of the white lotus-like flowers for her mother to float in a large shallow bowl of water.  Their layers of waxy white petals and enormous golden pollen-encrusted stamens sang to her of China somehow; their long roots grabbed at her as she tried to float above and among them to steal their treasures, then clutched their stems in her teeth and behind her ears and swam them back to the little boat.

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Shhhhhh; Even My Father-in-Law’s Talkin’ ‘Bout a Revolution

He’s a 94-year-old life-long Nebraskan, and I’d have to guess that he’s voted mostly Republican all his life.

He just stayed with us for three days in The Great Nebraska-Colorado Father Schlep (grin) my husband and his sister executed so doggedly and well.  We had a really good time together, if you can believe any of us (another grin)…  Even one evening’s contretemps resulted in a more honest and open connection, coming face to face with old grievances and whatnot, and I think we enhanced our mutual love and respect.

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Johnny’s Gone for a Soldier

(I’ve taken a little poetic license with this story, as did Peter, Paul and Mary with their version of the original Irish song.)

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Emily Barker and the Red Clay Halo: The Rains