NaPoWriMo 2025 - day twentyfour

They told me everything had burned.
There was nothing they could do;
the fire moved too quickly.
Like gossip. Like anger.
No one had taken an inventory.
How would we rebuild? How much
do we really remember? Years
of stories, milestones, memories.
Everything fades. What we once held
as true becomes too much work,
or the weight of marking time
throws us off balance, pushes us,
pulls us one way, then another,
the ground shifting, wind,
fire in the ground smouldering
for days, weeks, months.
Now we keep watch. We try
to keep our footing.

NaPoWriMo 2025 - day twentythree

let your yes be yes
your no, no
 
we shed our layers
we trade our skin
for lies and imitations
so easily convinced
we are right
 
find yourself
another holy war
find yourself
a new enemy
in Gaza, in Ukraine,
in downtown Edmonton
we erase faces
we pretend we know
the reasons
for our judgement
our misplaced rage
 
we build fences
with words and excuses
we dig holes
and are caught ourselves
we cover our fear
with the latest fashions
forget what we want,
what we all want:
to be seen.

NaPoWriMo 2025 - day twentytwo

just after sunset
just before sunrise
earthshine halo
glistening skins
sweat of our bodies
way we dance
we conduct
ourselves flash of
pleasure neurons
flaring like this
do this and
now do that
and right there
and right here
the sky fills
with light

NaPoWriMo 2025 - day twentyone

We leave the doors open.
We leave the lights on.
Celebrate like it’s yesterday;
like it’s been 2,000 years.
The day becomes a week
and we celebrate.
Everything is sung.
Our mouths are full
of songs and feasting.
We greet each other
with holy kisses
as we have been kissed
by the holy.
We gather around the bread
blessed and broken.
Or shared.
 
What a day
to find ourselves
full of rejoicing.
A rejoinder
to the world’s great wound.
We say come and eat.
Let us find a song
to sing together.
You are welcome here.

NaPoWriMo 2025 - day twenty

there is always a garden.
and a tomb.
 
and spices.
perhaps an earthquake.
 
he is not here.
this is not a time for weeping.
tell your friends.
they may not believe you.
tell them again.
 
let joy be your witness.
 
let me tell you again.
there are many kinds of resurrection.
choose one. choose another.
this is a time for feasting.
he is still here.
 
here is a table.
and spices.
 
an empty tomb.
there is always a garden.