The Truebies

Down by the water
where clouds chortle
in a swollen throng of ready tears,
even rivers can't be truest true,
even lakes borrow dreams
for the surface of life.
Oh dive us deep
and hold us near
to the wild then dear
oh dear
to the lick
to the wick
of that flame
to the middle of light
to the flight
to the sea
to the free
for all
place.
To the Truebies
at the bottom of the stair
to the flair
of a wilderness
not bought
not sold
but old
in all it's
truest
beauty.

In the Walls of the Churches

In the walls of the churches

In the walls of the churches where children grew up

There squashed in the dark is an everyone cup

Is a man made of lovin’ and gentle the flame

Is a man with his man breaking bread over shame.

In the floors of the churches where children grew up

There squashed in the dark is an everyone cup

Is a woman with woman, so bold at the pew

As they sit and they stand and wait for their due.

In the walls of the churches where children grew up,

There squashed in the dark is an everyone cup

Is a Monk is a Rabbi, Allamah and a nun

Alami and the Rev holding fast to the sun.

In the walls of the churches where children grew up,

There squashed in a box is an everyone cup

Where the room for confessing isn’t meant for a lie

Where the children are dancing and knowing the sky.

In the roof of the churches where children grew up

Are the stolen, the missions, the mothers their sons,

Is the daughters the orphans - all meant to have won.

In the doors of the churches and the mosques and the temple, 

There hiding inside is an everyone sign, is an everyone time

Is a welcome, an open, an everyone all

Is the peace and the calm

where the lovers might call.