We are an old people,
among the first the stories say,
who walked the land
when fresh with the Creator’s touch.
Though scarred with years of trouble
yet we sing the blessing songs,
greeting the Sun each day
with the thankfulness it deserves.
And sing for you
a song of belonging,
child of a distant Light
and ancient Mother.
May you walk in beauty
all your days, and if forgotten
may this song remind you.

Reading of “May You Walk in Beauty” with music by Navajo Dreamer

This time is like all the rest only different.
This time we won’t forget kind words.
This time we’ll understand
how pain can change you.
This time we’ll call on heaven
to guide us through the chaos
and bless the earth with seeds of love.
This time we won’t be deceived.
This time we will be human.

Reading of “Our Promise” with music by Eddie Vedder

I hadn’t found you
though I’d looked
in the branches above
and roots below the street,
in the faces of the serious
and the moon behind clouds.
Searching high and low
I came up empty
until I looked
in the space
where the heart
softly beats,
where dreams
are crafted,
and in the silence
without regret
there I found you.

photograph by Brenda Jenkins

Reading of “Where Dreams of Crafted” with music by Ali Farka Toure and Ry Cooder

Tell you what I’ll do.
I’ll scrub the world
with steel wool,
scrape away the grimy bits
of cruelty and war,
put soap and water
to sorrow and despair.
Fresh flowers
on all the graves,
remembrances
for the forgotten.
Silence to cleanse
the tangle of sound
then starlight
for speaking.
When you awake
you’ll find tears
of kindness
watering the garden
and green earth waiting.
That’s what I’ll do
for you this morning.

Reading of “In the Hour Before Dawn”

Easter 2023

Surrounded by noise
it’s difficult to discern
how life each day
speaks through starlight
and the colors of spring.
Tiny birds flit about,
rivers loosen as ice
releases its grip
and though your body
descends in the arc of age
the inner voice remains clear.
Why take up the sword
the closed hearted invite?
On this day
the gospel of innocence
holds space for all
and through the pain,
the long suffering and despair,
into the light of forgiveness
you rise.

Reading of “Gospel of Innocence” with music by Kenny Burrell

The cherry trees
soaked in rain,
the valley skies
wrapped in gray.
I watch with faith
like a druid of old,
talking quietly
to the broken earth
of my body.
Where bones grind
the lesson go slow
takes form and speaks.
Patiently I wait
with the cherry trees,
roots sunk beneath
the pavement,
drawing up beauty
from the soil
I’ve been given.

Reading “Where Bones Grind” with music by Netherland Bach Society

Under gray winter skies
the heart of the valley pumps
through the tap roots of evergreen.
Crows sit atop the tall firs,
lean and thin with winter hunger.
I am not gathering, no,
still living off summer fat,
quiet as the stones beside the river.
There I dream of building bridges
to span the chasm that keeps us apart.
Later, much later, people will cross
with their wagons of desire,
ready to inhabit the forgotten land
verdant and rich with green destiny
yet only we have the power
to reach out now
and dare to touch hands,
savoring this moment
across the expanse.

Reading of “Building Bridges” with music by Vivaldi featuring Itzhak Perlman

Thick and gray
the clouds of winter
break open on
the ides of March.
The threshold of hope
bringing reason for faith
while discontent
yet plagues the restless.
Roots of the ancient forest
stir beneath paved streets,
life older than imagination
come to resolve our sorrow.
Within the hardest hearts
there is the sound of water
as red buds of spring
fill the flowering plum,
turning eyes of the awakened
east to rising light.

Reading of “Eyes of the Awakened” with music by The Chieftains.

I feel the snow falling.
I see it under street lights
beyond the window glass,
but here beside the fire
I can feel it.
The blanket spreads
muffling the city sounds
to where the snow
might shape us
into the silence
where all songs begin.

Reading of “Shaped by Snow” with music by Tinariwen

No translation needed
for the language of the heart.
Age doesn’t matter, only innocence
and desire for the timeless.
You thought I was left behind
but actually I skipped ahead,
speaking the language
of the pure in heart,
no translation needed.

painting from Chakra series by Eilish Strawberry Hynes
“Yellow – solar plexus – I do”

Reading of “Skipping Ahead” with music by Lil Yachty