If you ever lose heart and the earth seems as distant as stars fading into the noise of your busy mind, know this. That a tiny island exists in the blue hands of the ocean. That a tree grows upright into the salted clouds. That two eagles love each other enough to spend their lives greeting the morning sun together. That two eaglets stand in their nest, gazing at the heavens. Looking down to the forever ground. They eat and sleep and flap their wings. And one day in July, one by one, they will jump into the air. They will know the difference between existing and what is beyond. They will hold onto nothing. The hurricane will come, courage catching their pinions on fire, as they mount the wind, climbing ladders into realms of the invisible.

--T.L. Stokes

Sunday, March 6, 2011

I tried to write a poem about the children of poverty

Speak softly around the children
of homelessness. Their bellies
keep them awake by night. If you
have more than enough, take them in.
If you are brave enough, listen.
Children go to school with no shoes,
not enough food for too long,
sleeping in the family van or
a motel. I can't speak further of
this, my eyes are drowning.

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