The afternoon chill
in the deep of winter,
the days bright sun
like a warriors sword
defiant to the trembling cold
upon my face,
lifting the spirit
with heightened anticipation
of the spring that
waits its turn;
the frozen earth
withdrawn in renewal,
readies to burst forth
triumphant as it soothes
and comforts our longings
with reward or new life
in unceasing birth.

Search deep into your heart
for the love that lies therein,
Remove the crusts of prejudice and hate,
of jealousy and self pity,
the darkness of envy and revenge;
Bestow it the Freedom to bring sunlight
with each breadth, as it envelops
our brothers with its healing
and comforting warmth,
sharing of its power to enrich
the lives of all who inhabit the earth
with respect and love
and the harmony of Peace.

People afraid,
their leaders adamant
in confrontation;
TV images scream out,
the hatred and killing,
killing and hatred,
that won't go away.

Rows of bodies
laid side by side,
black with burn
and darkened blood,
women raped,
bludgeoned
as children look on
witnessing a dark truth
of humankind.

A nation's scream
jump-starts a stirring
in our hearts,
yet failing to separate us
from the soft chairs
of passivity.

The Dead are gone,
and the living
are dead.
Our discomfort ends
as we change
to another channel.
Why must we care?
The pain is not ours.

Are we all brothers?
every woman our sister?
so should it be;
so must it be
if reason
and sanity
and Love, above all,
are to rule our hearts,
temper our minds,
and awaken the Good
that slumbers
within us.

Look at my eyes,
the color, the shape,
the size of the pupil,
the lashes that make
falling shadows.
Do you know who I am?

My skin is light brown,
rosy pink, black
or yellow.
does the hue
give a clue as to
what kind of fellow
I am?

This is a body
of somebody tall,
broad as a wall
to men skinny
and small;
does such description
provide a prescription
for evil or goodness
in the heart
of a man?

Add all the parts,
arm, legs and hands
to the rest here portrayed;
can you now
see the man?
not really, I'm afraid.

I can see,
I can fell,
I can hurt,
I can cry,
I can err,
I create,
I reveal
what's inside
as I work,
as I speak,
as I dream,
as I do
for myself
and for you.
Here am I,
See me, if you can;
Find me, as I am.

A choice to live
a choice to grow,
what must we give
to find and know
the warmth of love?

A choice to care
a choice to hear
our brother's cries
and longings dear,
what pain is understanding?

A choice to hide
a choice to flee
the truth inside
of your and me,
what charge to face reality?

A choice to sleep
a choice to weep, to turn away
from light and
stay in darkness ever?

Is there a choice,
how can we voice
our discontent
with solitude
and empty arms?

Come, be a friend
to truth and love
where understanding lies,
where forgiveness is
a new beginnings.

Do colors have sounds?
Do flowers have voices
and songs of the hillside?
Does red have a high pitch
and brown one so low
or is yellow soprano
and orange alto?

Hear the sweet song of the maples
and the pine of the pine,
a duet of two colors
as their voices combine
to tell stories of thunder
and sunlight sublime,
of hunters and buzz-saws
and loggers whose time
is spent cutting down
voices of nature,
for only a dime.