This is not a statistic of ANOTHER life
taken by the pull of a trigger…
the discharge made by a
law enforcer, Peace Officer.
This IS an ‘IMAGE’ of a human being—
Created in the likeness of the One
who breathed life into this Universe…
The One who breathed life into the dust
of the brown soils of ‘Mother Earth.’
This is an attempt to ‘bring’ life
back to a life GONE too soon.
Every drop of ink—splashes a prayer
for Jonathan Price, his family, his
friends, the one who took his life,
and for those who ONLY now have
come to know him because of this
This is a drawing of
a man whose life MATTERED…
especially because he was black.
You MATTER Jonathan Price.
May we not ‘rest’ until there is
Peace, Equality and Justice for
everyone whose skin
is a beautiful brown.
Life asked death, “Why do people love me but hate you?” Death responded, “Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a pain- ful truth.” Unknown
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In the center of a lush garden stood a majestic tree.
The tree reached itself beyond the sky.
Its leaves oh, yes, countless leaves were a splendor of cascading colors
the leaves were the shape of hearts.
The wind picked up, and I thought I heard ‘beating’ —one soft beat followed by another and another.
Was it the leaves? But how?
I rushed to the tree— My heart awakening to the strumming pattern. It, too, was listening.
I wanted to pull down a leaf —just one.
But, then, right before my eyes, the tree began to sway— it moved left then right.
I was beholden to a dance— a sort of waltz. Then, a soft blue leaf let-go.
It crooned, hovered a while until it settled itself in the very palm of my outstretched hand.
From the distinct time the leaf ‘touched’ itself upon me, something inside me changed.
How can I put it into words?
I was so ‘light’… like the weight of a feather. Yet, I was full like a bucket of water brimming over the edge, spilling itself without end.
I wanted to pick a few leaves so that I might send them to
Yet, as I reached, I was held back.
The tree, THIS season it seemed to say, “This is ours to do.”
With that, a gust swirled like a whip of a tail.
Several leaves let-go floating on to their destination— wherever that may be.
The time, the season ahead, was a time for rest as well as a time of renewal.
A transformation of new colors would be born again come Spring.
I let-go of the blue leaf in my hand. It was not a possession or a keep-sake… it was a companion, a guide.
I woke from my dream. I was draped in a brilliant blue.
Wait, am I still dreaming?
No, I was wide awake. I could hear ‘beating’ —a soft melody.
From my heart to yours.
Grow Brightly and let-go.
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Drops of Color (A Pilgrimage Journal Entry/Camino St. Francis September 2019)
The Poor Man~~~
the beggar man from Assisi—
is that you?
The winds whispered through the trees—
the leaves clapped their hands.
“ALL Praise and Glory” sang through
a tiny pink flower on the side of
Yes, now I know it is You.
A painted blue sky…a picturesque sea
washing itself above my head—
while the sun holds it center and
I feel myself revolving with you
Brother Francis, poor man,
beggar man~~~Lover of Creation.
Walking toward Assisi
the dust rises like incense with my
Small stones, large stones, lie in the
valley…an uncharted path giving way
to mountains dipped in soft clouds.
You’re near poor man, beggar man~~~
the Lord’s Troubadour.
You sang creation’s love song
and Praised creation’s Lord.
Your story Blessed Francis
Sister Death came for you~~~
You welcomed her.
You’re here poor man,
beggar man from Assisi.
The Christ in You
is the Moon’s Fullness…
the Light, the Darkness—
How powerful ‘we’ SEE more clearly
in the dark solitude of
when we view only a small speck of
our shadow—that IS the True Self.
Does the False self come out in the Light?
Is it the illusion we pretend to be?
Wish to be? Hope to be?
You lived the journey simply—
it was yours.
I live mine
through your words.
“Who am I? Who are you, Lord?”
Some days, I feel further from the discovery
of the answer to these questions
AND my being “Rejoices.”
In some ways, my prayer so small—
Pray, “I NEVER know.”
So like you
beggar man from Assisi…
I walk on like you till
Sister Death takes my hand.
Francis, One day I’ll walk beside
you in the stars…
For now…I’ll simply bow
in Holy Wonder.
Feast Of Francis —October 4th
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Ruth Bader Ginsburg
March 15, 1933 —September 18, 2020
May the rays
through her shadow’s passing,
ignite within us a passion
—to bring truth to light,
—to forge peace,
—to live justly,
and to humbly walk with
the ‘Source’ of life
seen in ‘countless’ faces,
cast from a host of traditions
stretching beyond horizons unseen
trusting that LIBERTY
is meant for ALL.
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I have sought a treasure— a hid-den gem unseen and, yet, visible —so I’m told.
I’ve spanned countless miles on foot… Endless terrain.
I’ve followed endless maps. I’ve utilized devices pointing the way.
Did I find the treasure you ask?
Well… Here is what I can tell you~~~
When I have set out and stepped ‘off’ the map,
I have found the pearl of great price.
I did not bring it back with me. Others are searching for it. I know them when I see them (The Ones who’ve discovered the pearl) and they know me.
Yes, once you find it— it’s within.
Keep it there— ‘stay’ off the map.
Trust the direction guiding you
—it’s your course to journey.
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