31 August, 2013
A warrior. You asked. This is what
I want to be. Especially, in this place
Where weapons of mass destruction,
Gang wars, vast armies, lethal intent,
And, most discouragingly,
Moral Justification, doesn’t exist, there
Is nothing I would like better than to be
A warrior. For the good… not of mankind,
But with kindness for man. The ones
Who navigate blindly, without a glimmer
Of understanding. Suffering the many…
The endless indignities. Having been born
(Not out of choice) – into a countries ripped
Apart by political strife – into communities
Starved of any opportunities for betterment –
With diseases beyond the control of medicine
Or God’s mercy. I will stand next to them
In their moments of need. Still their fears
And offer them comfort. In their loneliness
They will not be alone.
A gentle warrior. Yes indeed, that is whatI choose to be.
I believe in reincarnation and angels. Though when it comes to reincarnation, I don’t believe it is in our powers to know what lives we actually lived in the past. There just seems too many Cleopatras and Viking slaves out there to be true. Yet, I do think intuitively endless cycles of corporal/spiritual change and transformation makes more sense than purgatory, heaven and hell, or even Nothing.
(In my belief system, the jury is out whether it is possible for Tibetan monks to find the new and next Dali Lama years after the last one died. For the sake of world peace, I really do hope they know what they are doing. That is the one and only exception I am not willing to weigh in upon.)
It’s another thing with angels.
They are true. They might not all be as godly and good as esoteric literature would have us believe, but they are there in our hearts and dreams.
The following series of collages and poems is a flight of fancy and I apologise up front if I am stepping upon anyone’s religious toes. I also want to apologise to any angels out there who might feel I am taking the mickey out of them. That is not my intent.
The idea behind this project is to imagine what would happen if we were given complete free choice as to what form of angel we wished to be. The angels in these poems are real people I have loved and whose spirits stay close to me even after they died.
The following series of collages and poems are dedicated to my children. They may not remember their family relatives or, in some cases, even had the opportunity to meet them, but the legacy of these people live on in some of my children’s personality traits and physical attributes. How marvelous is that?
25 August, 2013
The collage above is the first in an angel collage series. This one is for my father. Gazing into the vast surface of sea foam and seeing an angel appear.