Eritrea, Eritrea

(Notwithstanding the severe dictatorship it has since become within two decades since its hard won independence from Ethiopia, this tribute to its victory in 1993 according to my information then,

stands as a dedication at that time,
and in heartfelt memorium now, to my very dear friend, Hanna Ehtiopia Berhane (d. Aug. 1013),
twenty years following that event.)

Mother Africa!    look upon your children,
have they not tasted the blood of their suffering and indignity
and lived?
Have they not responded with grace and more dignity?
Wherefrom, O Mother?

Was it because your very milk runs through their bones,
through those very feet with which they stood their ground,
and they know it?

Was it your love whoch gave their fight such boldness, did they inherit
from your bosom the richness of Being, to show such clemency
toward the aggressor whom they wore out with the enduring power of
their prayers and the sincerity of their faith?

What sort of a people, these lions who trust in the Lamb, this little Israel,
with a name like a beautiful woman?    Eritrea   Eritrea   Eritrea  .  .  .
daughter of Africa, a little jewel in the ear of the Mother Continent,
glistening in the light of the Son, victorious.

Come, And Partake

He is risen,

the King of Love, yes he.
He is risen.

"Whom do you seek? He is not here.
The bread of the Pesach is unleavened,
whereas he, the bread of Life, his Body, is risen."

Why do you search for eggs in the grass,
your eyes full of marshmallow bunnies in baskets?
Look! The early morning sky is lavender, holding promise!
O look now, and behold with the real eyes of a child,
behold the Lamb!

Be still in that morning light, you stand alone with Magdalene
at the wonder of it all: the King of Love, yes he,
has left the sepulchre, he is standing now not one hair's breadth apart,
his light is sovereign and that sky, that Easter sky is its blush.
Closer is he now than your own breath, breathe him in, for
he is risen.

Come, and partake.

Two for Rachael

(at about age 4, in Sapphic verse-meter – sung and choreographed accordingly)

Innocently gazing with wide-eyed wonder,

Soft now, sweet breath, why tear my heart asunder?

Graceful child your form speaks of sweet surrender

Cradled in my arms.

Part now, daughter into your mother's summer,

Let her sing you soothe you into a slumber;

Always there remains between us a glimmer

Of love remembered.

Rachael, Rachael! tirelessly I hold you

In my heart by whose vision I behold you,

Seeing you in all children as I've told you –

Season by season.

(photo @ ca. one year)

(specifically on the occasion of her 7^th birthday)

Rachael the beloved        tender of flocks        herself a lamb . . .

The Rachael I know was born in a spasm of light and soft quietude.

            Her open beauty revealed an impish charm.

The Rachael I know eats ice-cream 'til it runs, and dances on the rug,

            showing off.

The Rachael I know is shy until she giggles and tells you what she knows.

The Rachael I know swings at playgrounds and whispers to her friends

            at lunchtime in a jumper.

The Rachael I know is growing up as sure as sand in spinach

            and blossoming like a Rocky Mountain Columbine

                   in the pure air of a high pasture.

Rachael the woman is yet to come        and where's the hurry . . .

Let her heart be kind, her smile warm, her touch

           enough to make anyone kiss her fingers and leave

                  with generosity on his lips . . .

let her be a happy girl, a healthy and inquisitive girl,

     let her face be always, please always, her own face.

O Rachael, your birthday is my birthday!

 (photo @ ca. age 14)