Transformation
In following
This formula is not
Something free.

That
Unhesitatingly
Remarkable
Experience is quite usual
Through
Life alone.

Such are
The extraordinary creations comparable
To unity,
Such images
Are their origins.

There is
Meaning in
Comparison of
The identity
Indicated in
The formation of
Their strangeness.

We are only human..
messy, miraculous,
wired for touch and tenderness.

The science tells us:
we live longer
when we’re loved well.
Our bodies calm
in the presence of another.
The heart slows,
the breath deepens,
our minds soften
when someone truly sees us.

We are not made to do this alone.

And yet…

How ironic,
to hold this truth,
despite always knowing
how to be alone.

To wake alone,
and not ache.
To eat in silence,
and feel nourished.
To soothe yourself,
hold your own storms,
speak kindly into your own reflection.

What a strange kind of wholeness:
wired for others,
yet utterly at peace
in your own company.

I see some kids heading home from school,
bent over from the weight on their backpack.
In Palestine, children bear the politician’s schemes on their backs.
And bend further down,
grieving their parents’ lifeless forms.
Children, who used to be whole,
have their limbs torn off,
skin hanging from their faces and hands.

On my visit to the shop,
I see a kid throwing a tantrum over not getting sweets.
In Palestine, children hear cries of the wounded,
screaming for help.
While the world stands silent, aid delayed.
Red capes, a stone in their hands and a imaginary knife in their
teeth, they die as martyrs.

Politicians, no way you’d wield ruthless might,
If they were white children in your sight.

To be human,
Means to Win,
Only to loose.