You are the gold
and I the reflection;
I am the copy,
You, its perfection.
If I can but mimic
Your brilliance and hue,
could point hearts to You.
I stopped today beside the road
that I had never taken;
I gazed along those verdant slopes
at what I had forsaken.
My broken spots pulled hard toward
‘what ifs’ and ‘might have beens’ -
My heart was caught and hung upon
the fence where doubt begins.
I cannot walk along that path,
my choices barred its entry;
I’ll never know its final trail,
so Grace will be its sentry.
Thoughts are clouds on canvas sky -
Some go idly drifting by,
Moved by whim or circumstance,
Shaped as concepts meet by chance.
Others draw conclusions there,
Intention giving studied air -
Captured by the artist’s mind,
Reflection paints each view refined.
Lest your work of art be marred
By thunder-heads, be on your guard;
Better than the stormy strokes
Are lovely thoughts that hope evokes.
Hatred breeds where darkness obscures
the beauty attached to cells
which split and divide with remarkable similarity;
every heart bleeds blood.
Every soul’s veins mark its skin in tattoos inked with life.
To decide that one of the Earth’s peoples should be obliterated
is to nominate one flower for destruction.
Would you choose the rose? Or the sweet pea?
Which deserves death?
What reasons could justify the removal
of one shade in the spectrum,
pure Light knit whole?
Colours, textures, scents, flavours -
the loss of but one is to deny the rainbow its arc,
the garden its splendour.
What great catastrophe will be required to cut away the cataracts
that blind us to our collective dignity?
My heart is heavy as I consider some of the newsfeed I have read this morning. Will we never learn that hatred is ugly? That violence is evil? That each of us has a place in the Global Garden? What legacy will we leave to our children if we cannot learn to love our neighbours?