A Prayer for Me

Looking back, I’ll hope I lived

With all the Love I had to give.

I hope to never waste a breath

Promoting that which hastens Death.

May my lips bear forth a spring

That blesses every living thing.

May my hands work loving deeds

And meet a hurting person’s needs.

May my feet traverse the Way

That leads me closer every day

To hearing, seeing, knowing well

The many souls in which You dwell.

Thanks for Reading! Be Blessed!

Whatever, You Matter

Whatever your skin

Or your hair or your eyes,

Whatever your height

Or the size of your thighs,

Whatever your pain

Or your struggles or woes,

If you cannot walk

Or wiggle your toes,

Whatever you think

Or feel or surmise,

Whatever you hope

Or you pray to the skies,

Whatever you know,

Whether boy, girl, or none,

Whatever way

You love or have fun,

Whatever else the world may attach

To define you and box you

With others who match,

Whatever else all the others may see,

Know that you matter.

You matter to me.

Thanks for Reading! Be Blessed!

Of the Heart

With the ears of the heart,

Listen close! Listen close!

Hear the pain of the Other;

From judgment depart.

And with the heart’s eyes,

Can you see? Can you see?

How scars manifest

For to be recognized!

Let’s use the heart’s hands.

Could we heal? Could we heal?

Could we heal each wound

As each moment demands?

Oh, to live out of love!

Can we try? Can we try?

Is there hope that we’ll reach

The world we’re dreaming of?

Thanks for reading! Follow me on Instagram, @poet_4hire, and on Facebook, Poet for Hire!

Check out my book of poetry, Sacred Days! If you want custom, framed poetry for you or a loved one, contact me!

My Son’s Circles

My son walks in circles

Whenever he is free;

Yet such a silly thing

Is quite powerful to me.

The world is open for us,

Information to be found,

Yet most of us walk circles

With our eyes upon the ground.

But unlike my brave boy,

We keep our circles small.

As long as this is so,

Nothing will improve at all.

There are many folk whose circles

Were broadened very young.

Latin, Black, and Native voices

Had to learn the white man’s tongue.

Yet when the white is asked

To recognize that this is so,

They keep their eyes upon the ground;

Their circle will not grow.

I beg you now, dear Friend,

Fight to make your circle wide.

It won’t always be pretty,

But only then can all abide.

Like the poetry? Check out my book of poems here!