wings of birds were stolen by the gods, centuries ago
an earth's day lasts for 86, 400.002 seconds
children are roaming in the mind of these lines
they are counting, playfully and without feelings

days come and go, they float through our lives
i wrote about the stages of dreams and dreamt of an *******
the ruins of old poems are silver, blue and red
remains of a day's thoughts, decoded and clear, similarly

it is not wise to count seconds while you are breathing
it is not wise to count on people while they are leaving
it is strange to use "wise" in order to refer to cleverness
people of color may feel excluded by our languages

in german, "white" is called "weiß" and that sounds like "wise"
explain to me the origins of such a word, i demand it
before the river will have swallowed me; i demand an answer
poems come, poems go, leave a trace, stain – and a change

fools are flodding the streets in order to have a five o'clock tea
proudly, they are talking about their old heroes, bearded conquerors
these guys nevah really wanted to dig strangaz, dey killed 'em.
they killed unknown people, they stabbed my dreams

they murdered ancestors because they were used to murdering
they invented words without speaking but grinning
power is an invisible instrument that consists of hierarchies
power is what we see and oversee, power is the origin of wars

wars are the origin of despair; and that is nothing new
wars, though, may be invisible and silent, just in the mind
what is a war, does a war need bombs, guns and soldiers?
wars occur everywhere, daily, within 86, 400.002 seconds

the length of a day is measured in numbers; they are just inventions
numbers are man-made, animals orient on the sun and the moon
humans celebrate planets and write poems about them
we all will surive as long as we keep writing and tolerate each other

Poem- To the past & present

Hanging from the shame
Of my privileged supremisist height
Choking on the knowledge
That until now
I didn't fight

Eyes silenced hard
From systemic white view
All lives don't matter
Until your lives matter too

A product of white history
I wish I could reverse
Where all mankind are equal
For real not just in verse

Anger and great shame
come banging on my soul
Prejudiced leden centuries
and inhumane forms of control

I promise from today
Your fight becomes my fight too
I pray you'll accept from my heart
This apology to you..........

-  I am sorry
I am sorry on behalf of my ancestors and the part of history that affects you.
I am sorry for any part I may have played through being only Non-racist instead of Anti-racist.
I am sorry that I didn't educate myself earlier.
I am sorry that it has taken yet another death, for me to stand up and fight.
I have always shot down racism with my words, but I have failed to completely understand it.
For these and more that I still have to learn, I am sorry.

Fuel me
With rich stories
While I execute dreams
Unrealized and extinguished
“Ignite!”

i wanted to visit my ancestors,
so i stepped up to the gate.
i was told “You must be
/this/ dark to be let into this space,
see, there aren’t many people
here that we can match
up to your face,
and by the look of your skin
we couldn’t be certain
you’ve ever felt the sun’s grace,
we’ve seen many colours
but you are another,
do you really belong in this place?”

i wanted to visit my ancestors,
so i stepped up to the door.
i was told “You must be
/this/ light to walk up onto our shores,
see, we saw your curls and thought
Black Pete had come up
from the moors,
and you're familiar,
but that foreign tongue’s
taken several points off your score,
we were only one colour,
there's no room for any others,
so what are you coming to us for?”

i wanted to visit my ancestors
but i wasn’t sure where to go.
they’d shut me out, left me in doubt,
and i was in limbo.
i thought i’d had a birthright,
some kind of claim to make,
i didn’t think that i would be
so easy to forsake.
i hadn’t convinced the ghosts,
and there was nothing left for me,
so i packed my things, tore my branch down,
and went to sow my own tree.

Grief on wings of the White Dove
With an olive branch hanging
From her beak.
  
My heart expanding
Yearning  to burst open
Into expressions of mourning.
Grief expanding into mourning  
I lost you!

My inner feelings crying
Thoughts, punctuated with deep sighs.  
Tears, watering the branches
Lying at my feet.

Crying, outside of my self
Longing for you...
So, many tones of agony...

Pouring out of my heart.
The songs  of longing
Music welling up
From deep behind my eyes.
Writing, sharing, feeling, expressing
Art of the heart seeking release

Each anniversary
The day you died
The month afterwards
Each month…2, 3, 4, 5...
Your birthday
The first day, of the sixth month.

The usual Christmas tree celebration
Did not happen.
No popcorn stringer
With gummi bears and gum drops
No snow man soup
No gingerbread house …
My heart so heavy
My limbs were numb.

Oh, I miss your quite
Knowing humor
The gilt in your eyes
One year…two years
7 months & 19 days ago
Around 10 pm….
I still feel the sting
Of  hearing the news
Brother, speaking, describing
I not wanting to hear, " ... he's gone ..."

It just did not feel real!
No, it can't be…
NO! Not STEPHAN!!!!!!!!!!
Lord, NO! Please no!!
I picked up my pen
To scribble the notes…
I needed to see!
I needed to read!!!
I needed to write it all!!!

And when I reread it
I cried! …Sobbing…..
It became the way
To express my grief
My sorrow
My pain.

As the pain poured out
Out come what was left unresolved.
It helped to quiet my soul.
I could feel you
As I asked questions
And the answers
Poured and poured outward.

Pain flowed out
As understanding
Entering my heart.

Flying this path
Healing in my way
At the helm of my love
I reach toward you

Issue by issue
Understanding by understanding
Through rain, sleet and storm
My heart, calming
Though, a little unsteady...
Shaking
Hold on to me
I am a little unsteady.

Through their Misconceptions
I affirmed that  - grief is okay
Yet when mourning
Some still say,  "Just get on with it."

No orderly stages
Neither up or nor down?  
It Spirals round
In and through.
With the hand of Understanding
My heart, now stands in awe..
So this is compassion!

As the  key to the lock
Opens the door
The Dove flying freely
A fledgling peeks above the edge
Of the mud
Of straw and twigs.

I thought he few away
My spirit left mourning
The light dimmed
On this plane

Yet he lives!
My son lives!
His Light Shining
As the Inner Compass
Points the Way.

Now forever
Heart to heart
I embrace my son

It is much deeper now
All the unresolved floating up
As White Feathers Rising
Toward the Sun.
Toward the  Light

And the White Dove her sang of joy
Honoring the Red Rose
Of our Serenity.

we "know" about newborns that they are not able to express any emotions except crying

well...





look into a newborn's face for at least half an hour

recognize a very deepness in its glance: a pool of emotions

discover the souls of ancient beings

see them swimming through the newborn's eyes

find ****** expressions of ancestors in the cheeks of the newborn

feel creatures who were once alive..

Noble heritage they cannot erase
Ancestor’s plight laid bare for all to see
Tribal identity etched in each face
Invincible spirit their pedigree
Various attempts meant to “civilize”
Expanding demands for more and more land

Pogroms by forced removal terrorized
Extreme suffering they had to withstand.
Their unshakable resolve saw them through
Providing strength to mitigate their fears
Lives lost, yes, their memory they’ll renew
Endless remembrance of the Trail of Tears.