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Poem

I've seen Earth's epitaph:
S/He did more than Her share
to heal a broken world

Which sometimes seems to invoke anger
because I can touch what's broken
and other times provoke merely sad
because I can only feel inside
who is also wounded

Earth's living magic,
watered fertile soil,
red-blooded organic 
green clean soul
is not broken
like a worn-out clock
or formerly animated toy
or obsolescent urban block
now gone inevitably bad.

EarthTribe is not so much broken
as win/lose perpetually wounded
Paradise Lost
for our lapse
of good-humored Golden Rules
win/win re-found
happy healthy bodhisattva
rebound.

What is already broken
requires outside messianic agency,
too objectively disabled
to self-stimulate healing salvation,
personally feeling better
even in continuing lonely isolation

Emergent internally vital
growing positively viral,
stealing from toxic claustrophobic disarray,
tomorrow's voices redeemed
by choices erupting therapeutic promise
today.

Organic wounds,
unlike mechanical brokenness,
give internal notice
warnings of disenabling trauma
also enable therapeutic opportunity
to pull and push risk,
to massage and stretch ambiguous feelings
touching each Other's sinews
and straps,
moral lapse,
dancing mental songs
and embodied rhythmic rap

Raptures
filling in our anti-social lapse
our monoculturing elapse
of warm
and wet
and wild compassion,
integrity's redemptive fashion.

Brokenness shrouds despair
alone
where wounds invite
our active healthy care
together happiness vocationed
for EarthTribe's ecstatic day 
by faithful contenting way
inclusively inviting 
inspirational repair
with those who dare
to share Earth's communal difference
to heal this wounded world.

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