ALL RESPONSES |
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The face in the mirror is immaculate. Not a hair out of place, no visible stubble, eyes clear, steady and rested. An image of energy. The make-up artists tell me I have less need for their skills than any who came before me. Tailors delight in the streamlined structure of my physique. An icon stands ready to meet the people. Representative, advocate, leader, not only of one nation, but of the people of the world. The President of the United States.
The Presidents reflection looks back at me. There is a reminder in the ether of his eye. I am afraid. The same youth, full of doubt, familiar with common demons, unsure of the future, continues to live in this body. I will never leave. I will tighten your stomach, race the rhythm of your heart, speed your breathing, and squeeze sweat from your palms. Do not forget me.
The terror confronted, I hear the voices of billions. The sick, the poor, the fearful. A human race, hoping for prosperity, health and security. The door opens, and I am called. I will not let them down. |
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his black, porcelain
face
his onion skin
eight layers
thick |
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with challenges great
and hopes held high and mighty
going worst to first? |
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A person points
upward toward:
the sky, or bright
Summer clouds in it -
points toward light,
points toward hope
A person points
a trail, a track,
a taking back
of a sad train
140 years ago
that carried
one struggled hero
on his last journey
east to west
back home
This train now,
today, tomorrow,
that carries this man,
& the family he loves,
this train, a rocket
back to life, a retracing,
west to east,
toward happiness
Toward hope
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you see this son? this is a picture
of the first man to ever be.
it is of pixels and of progress
to some, but not to me
because these days should have come sooner,
or did (but there are none left to see. who
will tell me of stone axes, or how the full glory
of Timbuktu is now buried neath a sea?).
when the first hominid beat upon
the ground with bones and his brothers jaw,
and their mother cried, a wail or forever, we
were burnt into just law
but ignored it for centuries (maybe still)
and built, with shard, hook, and claw,
walls of ground bones and clay and grasses
but were never seen; nor saw
love between the different shades of love,
because we thought each truth
was objective, as the passing years
of, "dear departed youth...."
such tears. sew them--tears--until the sky
decides to die for all of us; until
there is recognition what truth
is still;
until we grasp that even though a tan
can break a brother from a brother, man,
their mother starves her heart to plan
how each can survive ... so reconcile,
really; live. Hagar, live;
and give me up my brother to me
when I can dress his woulds and wounds--
so that he can see me, (pray) even if ghosts I be forever--
"christ..." was never white, even in atoms
blazing down on Saul--the Jew ending, so redeemed;
and i am no christ, but dull Peter--here, in my palm, a vote
reveling a terrible, sad testament--but we are all crows.
we are queers and straights and women more than men; we
are governors, and baggie lips for crack cocaine; we
are physicians and unaffordable pure I.V. cures; and this
small peace, now, this piece, this first acknowledged justice. |
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Came early to the church to hear a great speaker.
Sat quietly entranced by the words music.
Sat in a place I felt I could sit in, an open place.
Came early to see all the crowd walk in.
Beautiful crowd. Every color. Dressed warmly,
for outside it's cold and mean. Bad weather.
Sang loudly when the service was over,
sometimes had to be still, my heart beat
so loudly, my throat choked up, but sang
loudly with the others. We sang our hearts.
I want to borrow this hymnal. I want to buy it.
I want to give it to everyone I know.
This is a great song, this song we sang.
It brought tears to everyones eyes.
The voice that led us was one we trust.
I sit quietly now in church with everyone gone.
The preacher prayed for me, too, that preacher
prayed for everyone, everyone on an equal standing.
I sit quietly here now and keep on humming.
I know Im going to hum justice all day long.
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A poem about Barack Obama?
Nothing rhymes with Barack Obama.
Which is as it should be.
He is singular, unmatched, individual.
Oh Lord, please ride shotgun.
Hell of a speech. Heres to you.
My God, what a great day.
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look, they are leaving
in that large helicopter
men we loved to hate
goodbye you two
until we meet again some day
in a juried court
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I think now of that other Illinois man, pacing the creaking boards
of the echoing mansion, cradling a nation's future in his head,
the concussion of guns continuing, blood and hordes
of rebels in his dreams; he, too, avoids the bed;
tomorrow the hundred days will be over, a million
souls will be free, a million laborers unchained,
a million scared owners, a million calamities,
all with the flow of ink from his pen. This is the path
of the pragmatist who would be savior, the genius act,
the act to sink an enemy, and yet hallelujahs will break out,
loud ululations of freedom. This is how our leaders are born,
how we find our heroes.
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from here it is hard
to tell land from sea
sea from sky--everything
shades of tin and steel.
The snow falls
like my thoughts, quiet
drifting, ever downward
land one on top of the other--
bury each desire in white.
Come spring, my heart, my love
will take the shape
of tender shoots, the sky
blue of small pools, fly
on the feathers of returning birds,
flare orange and amber and dance
to the music of budding trees. |
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awake from dreams as dawn caresses
the vault of the overhead night dark sky
now fade a scattered spill of distant stars
say good-by to the deeps of sleep anon
in bars of softest rose and mellow gold
the night wind doth stir a gentle farewell
tip that cup of cold regret and empty it out
and I will a goblet fill with loving care
a shout of joy our hearts will send
that we together may make the most
of moments we spend, those gifted to us
in a host of ways best to express our love
one for the other for as long as it may be
open thine eyes so swirled in dreams
arise my love an take thee sips of my lips
oh, thou skyclad who doth wear a coverlet
dost hide gleams of laughter as thou beam
a smile of such love, it dost melt my bones
so we together shall reach the morning star
and feel that far wind therein to cool the heat
we hath so engendered to scorch the world
aflame as Sol does come greet our game
there is teach and learn and love and laugh
and so might we meet the coming of the light
* * * *** *** *** * * * *** *** |
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hey, in the bleachers
ya, y'all in the black robes
time ya get to work
there ain't no justice
not bringing 'em all to trial
airin' the laundry
ya know what was done
they admitted to the deeds
said so themselves
gotta bring charges
gotta turn up the lights
catch 'em on the counter
don't need no convictions
don't need no time in jail
not even big fat fines
but let 'em go untried
free myriad crimes of war
and were outa here |
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spending eight years under a rock
causes cramps, but by noon on
1-20-09 stretching old limbs
never felt so good |
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I remember when Martin Luther King died and our pastor cried
at the pulpit that Sunday, how our white church cut him down,
my mentor sent away for speaking of grief over a blackman
and I remember the riots that shut the doors of my school and how
I thought I was too cool, the swift kick to my back as I awaited the bus,
the shock that my political stance didnt matter, only my color
the boy who hissed, Leave her alone. Shes just a hippie and the relief
that they werent going to beat me, I had no where to run
and I remember Black History Week: I volunteered to make a presentation and
read Soul on Ice, the teachers face turned purple, the students looked
at me as if I were crazy, the only two black college prep students never said a word.
I no longer saluted the flag because the words
liberty and justice for all were a joke
I remember Kent State and how that shut us up. And a call to violence in
return and how that turned me back to myself. And getting out of Dodge
and how that turned me to confusion and disillusionment and selfdestruction.
but then I found a way to serve. The homeless who sat at our table, grateful for conversation. I remember being homeless, and the line, the questions, the dress, the inedible dinner, the lumpy bed, but glad
to be out of the rain
and I remember wanting to leave the United States forever
and then
.. A man during his acceptance of the vote
to proclaim him our new president says to a girl in the
crowd, I love you, too. He wears the dignity of his forefathers
and the history of Civil Rights, knows the crisis will take
all hes got and all weve got, asks us to stand with him to serve,
believes in the strength of us together. I remember and weep for joy.
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The words you spoke rushed over us
as clear spring water runs,
promising,
over dry land.
We drank and cried and sighted and nodded
at every inflection, pause,
or change in volume of your voice,
now soothing and encouraging,
now powerful and forceful in your convictions.
The eyes are the mirror of the soul
and you let us look right into yours,
into your dreams,
your hopes for a better future.
We listened and hatched into our memory
not a few words,
but the content of all that has been said by your lips.
With it you tamed our fears, the old wounds,
the differences we have been taught to see,
the commonalities we have been taught to ignore.
The heart is a muscle in our body, yet,
it can transform and beat for a higher purpose
a blood made of love, understanding,
courage and sacrifice.
We pledged aloud or whispered inside our soul
to not let this effort go to waste,
and instead, to give our nation a new chance.
I hope this new voice
carried by a different color,
a different name,
will help us realize how old and wrong
some of our preconceptions have been,
and make us ready to embrace change.
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presidents arent anything
new
ideas are
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It all started in Florida with a guy
named Chad who, like the fool
in a tarot card deck, couldnt
make a decision to save his life.
Hang it on Chad, the hang man.
He couldnt make up his mind:
half in or out: part on or off;
semi up and downwho knew
what to do about him?
Even though those Floridians
clearly wanted to punch out Chad,
and Chad deserved to be,
in the end many couldnt do it,
and just let him hang there,
barely alive. I say if people
cant send Chad flying
then they ought to be allowed
to bring a gun to the voting booth
and shoot the hell out of him
until hes good and dead,
the way you do in that carnival game
where you rifle beebees at the star
and those beebees better shoot
the whole thing out with not a speckle
of red showing or its questionable,
and you get stuck with a crappy prize
for eight long years.
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kid in a stroller
at the table next
says bama! bama!
and the father
leans in and says
--she will be back soon
&
the kid in the stroller
gets pissed and now
points and says louder
bama! bama!
and the father
turns around
and looks across
the busy street,
past the cars,
the people waiting
for the bus, the snow
piled past the knee
to a faded poster in
a shop window,
and sighs. |
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days like this
when im left
with myself
the silence is deafening
sitting in the gray
of this lightless cave
ive created
i wonder
what is all this about
who do i think i am
what should i do next
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I often wondered if the life around me
could ever write itself into my story,
a story worth sharing with little ones.
The blue history book I
carried beneath my arm, heavy on the hip
rewound me and it all looked so good
the smooth pages that
3rd grade fingers flipped,
pride painted images.
Now I know what I wanted
and I know what I saw:
a man-a woman-a family
their sweat and tears
their dead
but all with a victory song.
Weve forgotten what
they fought for
died for
lived for
until now.
You are fragile man
but in you we find reason to fight again. |
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And so we are grateful from the streets
to the sky that dips in iced cream clouds.
For this and for the stretches of night
we are grateful and lucky to know
our old enemies, for the power of giving in,
forgiveness, the great and the full,
for symbols that crash like consciousness.
And each morsel of hope is parceled out
as if time has at last made up her mind.
For this and for the ringing of bells, mano
o mano, sisters and men of good will,
we stand by the river and the water
sparkles like a lovers eyes and its color,
transparent in the joyous sky.
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How many are there without a broken heart?
Who aren't suffering too hard?
Is anybody there waiting for someone?
When they will never show up
Can't ever come back?
We'd like to know what we'll face in advance
What will happen as terrible months fly past?
Were honest and brave and fighting for Good
Were trying to improve their lives as we should
War is pain, horrible fears
Sorrow, bloody dust and endless tears
The scariest thing is blood on your uniform
Even worse than a hot sand storm
I promise you, we will have help
HELP! Please HELP!
My dear corporal, please open your eyes
Did I earn your trust tonight or show you more lies
While we were fighting for our very lives?
So far I'm lucky, Ive gotten off light
But what will I tell your mom and dad?
Please, stay with me, my brave- hearted friend!
You were honest and strong and fighting for Good
You tried to improve their lives as you could
Against this horror so brave you stood
War is pain, terrible fears!
Sorrow, bloody dust and endless tears
The scariest thing is blood on your uniform
Even worse than this hot sand storm
I promise you, we will get help
HELP! Please HELP!
Why I am here with you, I dont know
Maybe God wants me to be; thats all
He makes sure you will hug your mom
I pray He won't allow you to go too young
Even infinite kindness can seem to stall
He wants you to meet with your loving one
To say to your dad you didnt let him down
You were honest and brave and fighting for Good
You tried to improve lives as all should
War is pain, horrible fears
Sorrow, bloody dust and endless tears
The scariest thing is blood on your uniform
So much worse than this hot sand storm
Can someone hear, we need help!
HELP! Please HELP! |
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As George Takei Tweeted,
"Change does not occur from following."
Ironic, that, as 1.9 million stood on the Mall,
Following a man talking with his hands raised high.
A stumble, a stutter, a pause for correction,
An oath re-taken the following day.
Not all are leaders, yet we each lead by doing,
Each of us in our own humble ways. |
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Now that I am
there
I realize
I am
closer
to my home
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Peace this
Chuck loves
around the
Cast lines deep everything gone
Captains chair
reef
When one hasnt anything any thing goes
Collecting
with so tiny
them castaway sons
Winds rain
an assailing ship
thowin them horns.
Bailout fare
a path together
Depths fashioned
we weather
Within old water
the mines
Drifted caskets
sleeping
Rot.
sweeping
Aloha Oe!
Shaka
Opened package
numbers sum.
I know haves
and have knots
Moray eel
But have I enough strand together known
Sleething
Ahead
Aloha, old Aloha
forget who won
A
ferry your
Where havent I looked for it wasted.
Worlds great Republics
in this fire shined downed
Belief
last remains
White master written hidden
Search patterns
of a toxic
Revo-Lucians! World Wilson ball
Life-line coming
fight
spiked!
Other nations heirs to a
911 crisis deserted Worn.
Calling.
And Wilson
Overboard on that faited night
trading for surf
his face a bloodied hand
Last,
sullen joined a proud fire made.
he let me go and
What crossroads this week
with personal Jesus
no ones left behind
beyond White House steps
Savour oaths bible
of what we ought to know now allies missed
to be all our survival stuff over Hillary seas.
guides set adrift ride.
And in FedEx deep blue sea
speed and C.O.D for American naοve
drifting saviour Chinamerica package made.
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As you round the reef
with an assailing ship
we weather through path together,
mines sweeping numbers sum
ahead
ferry your Republics dead
last remains of toxic flight AF101.
Welcome! heirs to desert won,
to Empire storm,
to peace, love, and stuff.
Chuck in his captains chair
collects that winds rain bailout fare
within old water depths fashion
drifted caskets opened package
a moray eels sleeps Worlds great belief.
Searching patterns skylife-lines coming
and like-mined Nations crisis 911 calling
in FedEx deep blue rolls-royce speed
C.O.D for American naοve,
drifts Chinamerica package made.
Cast lines deep to everything
when one hasnt anything
castaway son, Obama
thowin them HORNs
Dont forget who won.
Aloha
old Aloha Oe.!
I know haves and have knots
but have I enough strands together known
where havent I looked for where its wasted.
In this fire
shiny lined eyes search
with master staff
written hidden
white Revo-lucians
your World volley ball spiked.
Willsooon!
overboard that fateful flight
trading for band of the blood hand
stolen to join his proud fire made.
What crossroads this week
where no ones left behind
savour oaths allies missed
over those Hillary seas?
At last
he let go and
with personal Jesus
beyond White House steps
of what we ought to know
to be all our survival
guides adrift.
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I am washing the last glass, wiping it dry
My hands warm, my feet tired. This floor slants
three grapes convene in the corner, as
the red-tipped tulips nod sleepily.
They do not speak to each other, just nestle
Close. I am left with the remainders, the strays;
A pie tin, a cheese knife, a mitten, a sweatshirt,
a scarf from Cambodia, a nearly empty bottle of wine
everything else has found its mate and gone home.
I pull myself up onto the counter, sit on the edge
listen to the noises this old house makes
as I pour the last of the wine into a juice glass
& finish it. The grapes and tulips consider me
Watch as I close my eyes and remember other
Nights like this, when the world slept as I tidied up.
The childhood stories were just make-believe
There were never two elves making shoes, never
Two mice hemming and stitching, these hours are
empty, like my head, like my hands, like this glass
that now needs washing.
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A new sun rises
Wind blows smoke from tired sky
Battered eagle soars
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Oh my gosh.. Where did you get that fingernail polish?.. It's so bright my eyeballs are going to fall out of my head:) I'm just joking:) They aren't falling out:) Where did you get that stuff? The dollar store? Well, it shows.. That's my kinda store.. Dollar store.. Wouldn't it be nice if everything cost a dollar? Then maybe nobody would need anything..
Do you know what I needed a long time ago.. the piano:) I played it all the time.. went to school for it and everything.. But then I started makin babies.. Do you think any of them play the piano.. HELL NO:) They're all accountants! :) I tried to make em all like music.. I said, .. You HAVE to take lessons.. You HAVE to do it this way.. You have to do it that way.. It took me a long time to appreciate them for who they were and understand that they are smart and beautiful just the way they are.. I had to trust that and let them simply be:)
That nail polish is so RED.. WHERE DID YOU GET IT? The dollar store? WOW! That's sure getting a bang for your buck.. Bucks don't mean much anymore do they.. We had some pretty silly leaders for a LONG TIME that screwed things up didn't we.. more like 7th graders!!!.. They were like dictators!! They were.. Do you know why? THEY DIDN'T LISTEN! They didn't think an idea was good unless it was their own.. They had to be the smartest in the room.. Give me a break:) Good leaders listen.. motivate instead of shoot down.. bring others to the table.. and they WORK TOGETHER.. They don't have to be IN CHARGE all the time.. Good leaders work together...
Your fingers glow in the dark like 10 little lights.. That's pretty.. What would happen if we all did that... glowed in the dark? I bet we could do it if we really tried.. be little lights:) If we are all gonna be little lights we need to trust each other. If one light is all by itself in the darkness it will be lost.. If that one little light learns to listen and trust other little lights.. they will all glow together.. Well then, no one will be lost.. and the world will GLOW... just like your nail polish.. where ever did you get it? |
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from down here
it appears
he is about to point
up to you
you
sitting on high hopes
of youth
and billowing ambition
of the unknown
you
listening rapt
anxious
eager to follow
the rising curve
take your turn
we'll be here
looking up
to you
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I will never tell you how to feel
or how to breathe the forest air
how to sink your feet in moss
or plant yourself in leafy soil
I won't tell you who you are
or which distant god to love
but I might whisper in your ear
if I could ever get that close |
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(for the courageous cohabiters)
And when my love stood so near
Once whispered in my ear
Daily lifes bids and shares
Turned to dust our moonlit lair
Silken touch & breathless thrust -
Alone, I dream of once |
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He stands tall,
reaches up to pull a star from the blue sky.
He evokes justice, responsibility, inspiration.
You can name a star,
for one low, low price.
I don't know who keeps track of those names,
or who cares.
Some people just like the idea of it,
a star they have named, or had
named after them.
My father picked out a star for his own, one night
on board a Navy ship in the Pacific
He didn't name it, but he can still pick it out as his own,
a link between his 18 year old self
and the 80 year old man he is now.
The stars keep wheeling the same arc,
shedding their dust on us
shedding their light on us
oblivious to our naming,
to our reaching.
We keep forgetting,
stars do not shine in the daytime
(but one)
and you cannot own the sky or stars,
anymore than you can own
justice, responsibility, inspiration. |
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We have heard the tales of fathers
walking to school
Three miles through the snow,
one way and how they suffered like hell
My father did
He woke 3 hours before the sun
to do chores in the barn
Then walked to the schoolhouse
Lunch box and books in hand
All of one room,
grades 1-8
Did the three Rs
then walked back
through the rain, snow, hail, and
100 degree furnace of July and August,
he did his chores and then maybe his studies
He was an only child
Didnt have electricity until
the war
Thats number two; for you and me
He rode heifers like bronking bucks,
until he got flung over the electric fence, where he
gained a healthy respect for his beast
and a mouthful of gravel, along with bits
of himself left on the road
raised chickens and rabbits,
hogs and such:
sold them at market to make a living
had to contribute to the family before he was ready
Hunted squirrel
and fished the black river
learned every inch of ground cleared
with his feet, then taught me later
After marrying, he carried fresh water
in milk cans three miles (he drove it really)
from his parents farm:
my grandparents, may they rest in peace
Because the house he lived in;
with my mother
had no running water
The draperies would slide
away from the windows
when the wind blew
The windows were shut
That was over 40 years ago
Raised three children in the wild,
they did the best they could
Give you three guesses
which one of em was the best
I learned to hunt, kill, skin and gut
before I was ten
Thats just the way it was
It was the way you ate
All that he has seen and done,
through coal shoots and splitting wood,
he says to me, son, the good ol days werent that good
This internet deal has me confounded for sure
cell phones
and the like,
they make life pretty good
He still says colored people
It isnt a crime
He just doesnt know, that its not
really done anymore
That the brothers and sisters prefer
something a little more genteel
Where I come from they have one stoplight
Maybe three in the whole county
and its the county seat
Oh, the country
Me; I knew girls that had to share their
bathwater with 4 brothers and sisters,
one after the other;
the water growing thicker
until their parents got in
and do you think it mattered?
Ive been in houses
that had no heat all the damn winter
partied like hell,
we didnt know any better
We did what we did
and continue to do such
If yall want to see
darkness
come on, Ill give you a touch |
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Gesture of a conductor,
an astronomer, of someone
watching the space-shuttle
separate safely, straight
for the moon. He owns
the grace of Gandhi,
and Tiger Woods, combined.
A genius mongrel-man,
who went to Illinois
seeking to turn over
a new leaf, as if the very
trees depended on him.
He has understood,
but he will learn anew,
that his chosen countrymen
make very bad mistakes
behind his back. What he
observes up there
are the 1970s--free love,
sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll,
swooping home to roost. |
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Hope is the music made by many voices,
and all the ones whos dreams
have been stepped on but not crushed.
Words of many languages flow like water,
they grow from every rivulets, every spring,
come from different places but all go to the sea.
It is our raised hands waving in the wind,
It is a rainbow of many-colored skins,
It is waves and weaves of smiles and twinkling eyes
Hope is fish and bread eaten on a shore,
multiplied by love,
a meal that when shared nourish the soul.
It is all we have left when nothing else remain,
it is our candles flame flickering in the dark,
it is a lighthouse when lost in a storm.
Hope knows no barrier, no differences,
doesnt ask question and plays no favorites,
does not distinguish one faith from the other
When we come together,
when we hum the same song,
the same wish to be one,
to be at peace,
all that we need is to believe.
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