with thanks to Glennon Doyle Melton for coining the conundrum.

You can listen to this poem here.

This poem has been pulsing since 4:14am

Lucky numbers by all accounts of my heart and that of my sister’s

Turn toward the Brutiful

Brutal

Kids under rubble and the angry tides of Matthew

A Haiti not forgotten

though tramped upon

by a sasquatch of narcissistic personality disorder

riding the waves of misogyny

What’s that?

It’s a swimmer on dry land for a spell

twenty minutes of misbehavior captured

in the face of

little girl brides

left home from school

and boys who can’t walk home and wander

for their profiles

may elicit

shots fired

their strides, their skin

their love of Legos

who then can face this day?

Vote in a parade of misfits

your bread is treated with five rounds of Roundup

Wheat and the big C

amber waves of

wait

did you see a loophole

in the Dakota pipeline?

Muslims marching for

Sioux Cherokee Chumash

or was their a spark of hope

in a Syrian Santa

passing stuffed animals

to tiny hands in Aleppo?

I rise, swipe, pray, breathe

Lakshmi

Goddess of wealth, fortune and prosperity

it lies in our spirit

she whispers

four hands forward and back

edit out the brutal

for three pulses of your heart

 

one

reading tea leaves on the isle of Orcas

where Heron visit reeds

Crane signify Druid patience

longevity and secret knowledge

 

two

there’s my boy

puppets, drawing Illuminati and begging for

wrestlemania in oxidized waters

yes, I say and green light, statue

marco

 

three

hash browns and hail marys

a candle lit for

a cousin

 

trees digging dry soil

the taproot still finding sustenance

in the hope

if we face the Brutal

underneath we will find

the Beautiful

it is ours

each time we

say yes to

love