We reject pain,
but how
that rejection
— that indominatable spirt
to thrive against loss,
creates the most
beauty!
Faith, Health, and Other Musings
May our minds flourish with creation, and may our hands never deny its expression.
We reject pain,
but how
that rejection
— that indominatable spirt
to thrive against loss,
creates the most
beauty!
But how
do you
give an
appetite
even
to my eyes?
-L.M.G.
Do you
ever think
people
are violent
or invasive
because they don’t know
any other way
to be interesting?
-L.M.G.
There are no
bad words —
only bad intentions;
your words
take the blame,
like
spoken scapegoats.
-L.M.G.
Allegiance to all
Allegiant to one
The Guard of your magic
The Guard of your son
I feel your pain
In this burning mark
There’s no more beauty here
No more art in the dark
-L.M.G.
You’ve taken up residence
in my heart
and grow
every day more immovable;
when I peer into the cabinets
and corners
I can’t help but to think
I love what you’ve done with it.
You don’t just rise in the morning with your character; it’s formed and reformed every day, pressed together, pulled apart, and recreated by your
company
connections
music
moments
books
browsers
paths
and poisons.
This pandemic
has taken peace
(however much of it we had)
and put in its place
a constant, unrelenting
pain,
— somehow shockingly swift
and sadistically slow —
creating a sort of global wartime,
that makes us yearn for
the things of comfort:
a mother’s embrace,
a lover’s touch,
a child’s messy kiss,
and corona,
this cruel, ironic burden,
has made those
the very weapons of its war.
(where do we find
rest
when the war is in
our homes?)

And I guess
we’re all
edible,
letting ourselves be
(or yet being able to stop from being)
devoured by our
expectations,
environment,
and
egos,
being swallowed whole
by the earth
and its many woes.