Although the egoic mind points the blame. Perilous times shall come. All the world’s afraid, hurt cannot be transformed. So let the wound lie open, let the winds blow on the wound, sprinkle a savor’s salt on the wound, let the wound lie open. Our days are numbered and our days are short. Love cannot be stopped. Hurt cannot be transformed, so let the wound lie open, let the children rise.
Love is born willing and tender. Love has no color it can only be felt- like the cardinal bird whispering on the fence of my destiny -all things are possible,
Love is a revolution: ever flowing towards – out of solidarity to those seeking refugee, out of a thousand times of rested light – out darkness, love is born over and over. I feel it- sparkling and shimmering, even when the county is mourning- love helps us cry. Love helps us to feel. I honor love – Love is a Revolution. VisionarieKindness all rights reserved 2015
rivers of love
like tiny rose petals
with the tides
Healing storms in my pocket
deeper and deeper still
Visionariekindess2015 (Image by Malisha Goggans)
I am worth the dreams that live in me
I am worth the mountains that skip
soothing my troubled soul
cooling waters,open wide
exploding through the errors
down on Georgia st.
I am worth the journey…
This ain’t it.
She swallowed a little more,
Slightly drowning in Mississippi’s River bed
it should of been holy
it should of rocked her to sleep
it should of taste like honey,
but now it was just sadly unpleasant
Pumping her legs further into the deep.
Salty-night came calling.
She wore her cotton purpled sash squares through each yard.
For I never saw a mother with such a discerning eye.
While the day withered from sunshine to bitter night.
For I never saw a mother feed the dead.
In her kitchen with each tool and recipe,
sweeping rounded pipes of potted meat
For I never saw a mother with such a piercing look
tumbling in and out of oven-soot.
Her humbled feet grounded by the gardens leaves,
just to sing a mumbled tune.
Ah- if that mother’s son could only breathe
For I never saw a mother feed the dead,
with such a discerning eye.
Invisible to my cry
I saw love tenderly tending,
Exchanging her life for me
I saw love marching to a lovers’ drum
I saw love hanging between two thieves
With vinegar stained lips
“The Temple’s Veil” torn in two
“Forgive them,” that’s what I saw love do!