Contact us at: whispernthunder1@gmail.comBoundaries
~ Orannhawk
winds shift
dry
parching heat
sweat burns
my eyes
walking
among dry
yellowed
grasses
knee high
too high to see
what may be hiding
within
watching
the dark sky
uneasy
as white trucks
pass on the street
too similar
too many
another backs
into place
too close
too close
five feet at most
no comfort
eyes watching
boundaries
crossed
walking
in my yard
my space
no reason to be
there
cameras
catch
the movements
and I know
and I report
it
eyes are too
close
boundaries
crossed
too many triggers
too many
boundaries
crossed.
Traditional Roots
~ Joelle Clark
The deepest roots sustain the tallest tree,
Holding the strength of our long history.
They paved the path on which we walk today,
And kept the sacred fires along the way.
We pull the blanket warm across their knees,
And listen to their words like gentle breeze.
For in their silver hair and lined embrace,
Lies all the wisdom of our time and place.
To shield them from the cold and tend their care,
Is not just a burden that we choose to bear.
It is the ancient law, the sacred tie,
Passed down beneath the wide and endless sky.
We honor those who spoke our language first,
Who calmed our fears and gently quenched our thirst.
With open hearts, we walk the traditional line,
And cherish every elder's sacred time.
Along with others in Gaza
~ Ron Leith
Lalena stumbled over broken rocks, glass, and plaster
Their sun was hot
Their air was black
Sulfur and cordite stuffed their nostrils.
There was no one around
No fathers or mothers, looking, bending over
Staring into the dirt
Breathing in the black dust.
There were only children
Dark, light, thin, stoic
Staring at nothing or maybe
At one another
And standing in the swirling dust.
A dog…
Wagging his tail
Like lunch is about to be served
Black eye, white eye, and short
Oh my God, short
Tail flipping, head shaking
And looking straight at me.
Two years later
Blue and white, blue and white
That’s what Lalena remembers from then
The UN trucks rumbled through town
Black wheels, blue and white hoods
Then there was The Show
Rocks, now almost three
Rocks, the black and white dynamo
Climbing, jumping, twisting Rocks
And when he stopped
Everyone stared at a miracle
Lifted from the ashes of Gaza
Rocks stands as a what, a goof.
One year later
Auntie Jen, the UN’s wholesome soul
walked Broadway in tall pink heels
Swinging Versace but wearing Boss
New York City and Westminster would not wait
Rocks was four, strong and sleek as a Cheetah
The potential champion, the comeback kid
He was in great shape, a true winner
The trophy was in the bag, and on the shelf.
Auntie Jen felt proud; Lalena loved New York City
Rocks jumped and smiled his way to First Place
The kid from Gaza was a world champion
First in Show, Westminster Dog Show, NYC 2009
Two Years Later
Cordite and flares were common; dying was common
Lalena enjoyed a day of chasing Rocks and watching clouds
But Israel would not rest
And when the steel and plastic flew, it found Lalena and Rocks.
They were never found
They maybe did not exist
But there’s a shelf in Gaza, and a picture
And a Golden Trophy, ‘Best in Show” from 2009.
Auntie Jen had a memorial
Just two blocks away was the park
And the pond with fish and frogs.
The water was appropriate, fitting for a final goodbye.