Saturday, September 17, 2011


Written first in Spanish...


Hay ríos de palabras corriendo,

cayendo sobre la cosecha de vidas.

Son ríos de mil frases, gritos,

llantos y esperanzas.

Son palabras de deseo,

de borrar la neblina de violencia,

de opresión, de las fuerzas

contra la libertad.

Palabras de escribir algo nuevo,

palabras de compromiso y

la promesa de presencia,

de saborear la invitación.

Y cuando a mi campo,

en mi sed profunda,

los ríos me llevan sus sílabas

de bendición y fecundidad,

sus aguas llegan a mi boca

y me doy cuenta

que a veces, la Palabra

se escribe con tinta salada.

c. MperiodPress


There are flowing rivers of words

falling over the fields of life.

Rivers of a thousand sentences,

shouts, groans, and hopes.

They are words of desire,

of lifting the fog of violence,

oppression, the forces

against being free.

Words for writing something new,

words of promise

and the covenant of presence,

of savoring the invitation.

When the river arrives at my field,

it brings to my deep thirst its syllables.

Syllables of blessing

Syllables of blooming.

And I realize,

with the waters in my mouth,

that sometimes the Word

writes in salted ink.

c. MperiodPress

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Marking a Decade

In the Whirlwind

(written for the community of Saint Francis Xavier, NYC, upon the Tenth Anniversary of September 11th)

I am the Love that rises,

always rises…

I rise with the sun, and

I rise with the moon…

I rise to draw down like gravity,

toward the center,

and I rise to set free,

loosing hope upon my people.

I rise to the new day and

I rise to the challenge.

I rise to see born the yet-unrevealed-


I rise when I weep

and I rise to laugh.

Nothing is stronger

than this essential constant:


I am always and everywhere,

I am for everyone and I am

in everyone, and nothing

can ever separate you from me.

I am

the Love that rises,

always rises.

c. MperiodPress, 2011

About it...I can tell you that I did not want to write anything specific to the event of September 11th, but rather something that spoke of a straight-on God... A God that does not abandon or betray, a God of every moment, a God of "hope regardless" whose hope is love. It filled me as I wrote...filled me "center-down-deep" like a Spiritual does...that is the sound I heard while writing...the loose-jointed passionate ache of truth--the truth that there is evil and that there is good. The truth of death and the truth of life, and according to our faith, the truth and freedom found in rising... whether rising like buildings being built; rising like getting up when knocked down; rising like the sun or the moon rises; rising like floodwaters or hope; rising as in resurrection...

The title is tweaked from a line of another poet, Gwendolyn Brooks, who wrote "Conduct your blooming in the noise and the whip of the whirlwind."

Made in the image and likeness of God, may we conduct our own blooming straight-on and shade of fear, no cloak of the whirlwind circumstances of our own time and place.