three strands

sisters

not easily broken.

shards of a whole

but whole in each

the greatest of these

remain

faith

hope

love.

bring me your tired, your weak

show them my sisters and they will find

within themselves

a love for the dysfunction of their family

as i love mine.

all of us shards

splintered and broken

into tiny pieces of a whole

we are whole

when we are with 

those who know us best.

all one river, one pack, one nation, one family.  

no one looks the same inside

when beauty comes from every corner.

take the time to hear me

hear you

hear the silent sweep of arms pulling us all in

to an embrace

of pain needing comfort

echoing another's thoughts

questioning the caveats and crevices

shallow souls need not enter

for family abounds

if you will shift to give and take.

all of us broken

left hopin'

three strands or one

we never stand alone.

moroni

only 8am and it's 27 C, which is close to 81F folks.  

moroni.

the word came to me on a bike ride and i couldn't get it out of my head.  i didn't even know what it was!  so i looked it up, and several spellings later i am ridding the poem about "...midnight air sinking into my lungs" and "floating under a treetop roof".  

silly.

moroni, the capital of grande comore off the coast of mozambique on the other hand, does not mess around.

um hm.

maybe i should write about things that matter, i tell myself.

some of the only information i could find about the island is here.  sounds captivating and gruff.  almost unfriendly in the most beautiful of ways.  i feel limited in my geographical knowledge, which limits my power.  because i do have power.  we all do.  but what am i doing with it?

this morning in moroni i can only imagine what the people there awoke to, a day full of hard work?  political strife?  heat, stress, exhaustion, fear and not enough food?  again?  beauty and pain as far as the eye can see?

morose

magnificent

misfortune

merry

muted 

moroni.

another place i do not know but want to try.