Shards

Not what it’s cracked up to be,

not just fallen through the cracks,

shattered like a windshield!

crazed like glass,

smashed wedding goblet

from a broken marriage!

Womben giving birth in chains,

children torn from their mothers' breasts,

the chrysalis crucified,

genes tampered

to make a killing.

(Patent it; call it creation;

play god and play golf!)

Ecology, culture, belief:

all flood bloodied

down a storm drain.

Not all the king’s horsemen...

(storm troopers!)

Humpty Dumpty

will never be the same again!

________________________

Teacup tempest brewing!                   

Hurricane in a drop of rain,

reverberates:

peace in pieces (Make tea, not war!)

broken heart, spilled, spoiled dreams.

_______________________________

The short nasty history of patriarchy

has plagued the last 5000 years

with its seemingly incurable addiction

to lies and violence,

fear, self-hate and greed.

_______________________________

This is too small a world

to make bad friends

(too short a life.)

With relatives like that,

who needs enemies?

"If you can't help a fella,

at least don't hurt a fella.'

Where are the peace-makers?

(No peace to keep!)

"Get your own house in order."

Uncaring ‘fun’ house of distorting mirrors,

fragile to the first thrown stone,

lightning-cut sky,

ricochet of shards of sharing,

blink of an eye,

fear in a blood-red tear.

Now this house of cards of power-over

is about to fall,

a false world torn asunder.

I do not fear that falling.

She holds us safe.

She is a Cosmic womb

contracting, expanding, gestating hope.

Her universe is a great deathless lung

that breathes Respect.

___________________________________

Shards of stars

float on the dark well of the heart,

stars tearing through our tearing eyes,

shards of a Ming vase smashed by vandals.

We know the whole from the part:

the lovely rim, the handles.

Destroyers, worshiping

man-made fear and lies,

plundering the hard-won public good,

making our world a living hell.

And yet the stars still fall,

pointing to where we all

reach out our arms and shine,

sharing what's yours and mine,

reweaving hope and love,

seeing the deepest: mirrored above.

________________________________

Dance on the shards! Walk on the coals!

Accept the embrace of Mystery:

two bony crescent arms

we all can count on.

We are tumbling (safe)

within gestation, transforming, butterfly,

seeming deformed in our becoming.

When vision blurs, Vision may emerge.

Breathe your healed breath, now.

Practice, not merely hope, but gratitude

for indivisible Wholeness.

Accept Change. Call Her Mother.

Call Her often! Call Her now!

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018