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Garden

The most valuable

and most powerful ability —

divine, human,

or otherwise —

is not the capacity

to do or accomplish

something extraordinary.

It is the ability to be present:

availability;

which is the garden

where the holy gift

of community

is planted, watered,

photosynthesized, and nurtured.

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This resonates so much! I find community in the garden everyday, and I love how you put it into words.

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This is sweet, Todd, fit for a garden! I like the blending of mindfulness and the revolutionary act of gardening, one of the best forms of resistance.

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Little Ode to Community Care

What do you love?

Can I help you make the space

For you to be in a place

To enjoy one of those small

things today?

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This is wonderful Ange! A little ode with a powerful depth!

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Thanks for the encouragement!

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I was lucky enough to see the Aurora Borealis last night and couldn't not write about it today 😄 I posted several photos on my Insta to go with this poem, anyone who's interested can check them out @SHaywardWrites (hope that's ok to share)

With necks craned back,

we scan the skies.

93 million miles away,

a stellar storm

causes our breath to pause.

A reverent hush lays upon

the gathered crowd

when a flare of light shoots forth.

A group gasp fills the air.

Hoots and hollars ring out,

the celestial show an interspace grand slam.

Around the planet,

similar photos fill our feeds.

Our collective awe creates

a planetary community.

When faced with such grandeur,

such otherworldly majesty, our differences

fade into the dark background.

There is no class, no race,

no battle lines,

when we come together in wonder.

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We looked and drove and looked last night and tonight and couldn’t see anything. Thank you for gifting us with this glimpse of beauty shared, Sarah.

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This is tremendous Sarah! Thank you for writing so beautifully about the Aurora Borealis, one of the most amazing wonders we have seen in our lfietimes. We used to see them from time to time during the ten years we lived in northern Vermont, and they always made us stop and gaze in quiet wonder. We see them quite infrequently here on the seacoast of New Hampshire, so last night was a treat. Thank you for sharing your poem and pictures.

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[Ode to a Church Choir]

No matter how I'm feeling

No matter my beef with the one tenor

Or the way the one alto talks too much

Or the sopranos who lost the ability to sing a high F about twenty years ago

Or the bass behind me who comes in too soon--

We start singing, and I soar

And I smile

And I believe in God again.

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Wonderful. Thank you for sharing

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Thanks for reading!

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I love this.

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Thank you!

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I heard a murder

of crows convening

in the trees.

.

One day, I saw them

marching up my street,

a set of three.

.

And, truthfully, I

envy their sense of

camaraderie.

.

Oh, to be a crow,

and to gather so

confidently.

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I love both the rhythm and the imagery in this one!

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I love this!! I also feel similarly about the geese

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I love this A.! I am smiling at the image of three crows marching up your street, a funny and frightening image. I liek that yo9u use "a murder of crows," a term I learned in anoethr peotry sharting. And I love that you give a hopeful sheen to the ancient crow, who have seen so much in this world.

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All That Is Required

Whether a circle of chairs

In a church basement

Or squares of faces

On a screen

Cameras on or off

Words spoken or not

All you have to be is present.

All that is required is to listen

And sit with discomfort

And acknowledge

Not that you are broken

But that you are worthy of being

Rather than escaping

Because in this space

Whether seen or not

Heard or not

You are welcome

You are held

You are loved

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"you are worthy of being / rather than escaping" these lines really hit my heart ❤️

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Thank you.

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This is beautiful Rachel, a wonderful prayer/poem/blessing for a world so sorely in need of this message.

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Beautiful Strangers

I feel your hearts

Care-workers, mothers,

People in arts

Feelers of feelings

Weavers of words

Rage, relief

It's so absurd

They've put us in boxes

Good girl, or bad

Hippie, or weirdo -

Loner - so sad

This reductivist bullshit;

Insidious - intended

To keep us preoccupied -

Our woes never-ended.

Distracted from reality

We have this big secret

We're all kind of fucked!

Oh sugar - oh shit!

Yet, if we follow the breadcrumbs

We find tangible space

For community - connection -

A curious place

A gorgeous ecosystem

Where seeds can be sown

Where voices can echo

"I am not here alone!"

So here we are now -

Good girl, be gone!

Step into your village.

Together we're strong.

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The honesty - "we're all kind of fucked". That is true on several levels....but "I [we] are not here alone". "Together".

Awesome. Thank you for sharing

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Haha, thank you Steven - sometimes you just gotta say it!!

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This one really got me in the feels. Gorgeous!

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Ah, I'm Glad Lisa 😊 Thank you 💜

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I love this. It's almost sing-songy, but also so deep.

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Yes, together we’re strong!

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I don’t want to be

self-sufficient anymore —

how exhausting

Here, let us sow seeds

together, intertwine our roots

carry the bucket

Hand in hand, together

as in to gather

as in community

let us lighten

each other’s loads, remember

we were made for this

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Yes!

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I agree. I'm much too tired to carry it all. Let's lighten each other's loads

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Its the tribalness of it

That adds to it.

Adding another X

on your short timers' calendar,

as you proclaim to your fellow submariners

"another day in paradise" with a wry smile.

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Today, I planted two types of Flowers

In the very same pot

They will live & die together

Having never fought

They both relish the Dirt

And Crave the Sunlight

Uniterested in outdoing one another

Or trying to be wrong or Right

The rich darkness of the soil

Gets the roots ready to nourish

While the the sunny rays

Prepare the blooms for flourish

These flowers

They never compete

And by any other name

They’d smell as sweet

As they grow older

The dirty roots will intertwine

Separate but Connected

Never to claim, “Hey that’s mine”

Somehow they share the earth

While remaining fully Free

Urging us to Understand

This concept of Community

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I devoured the first three stanzas of your poem, Jimmy. Great metaphor. Please keep creating.

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The arms of friends around me

remind me of the thread

that weaves and shimmies

around all of us

Maybe it is time

or spirit

or another mystery

but I know that it remains

untied at the beginning and end

with strands that wave

in the possibilities of

futures honed from the past

but can I see

can I feel

this middle of the braid

the part with the arms of

my friends around me

the part with all the

tangled knots

wrapping and twisting

us all in together

right here

right now

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This is quite lovely, Sarah. I love these lines:

"but can I see

can I feel

this middle of the braid

the part with the arms of

my friends around me

the part with all the

tangled knots

wrapping and twisting

us all in together

right here

right now"

and I am shaking my head "Yes, yes you can!"

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Coming together

Opening up

Mothering

Mixing

Uniting

Nurturing

Intentionally and unintentionally

Together

You all belong here

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A beautiful poem and insight, Jane. Thank you.

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‘…seen and held and know by others’ - gorgeous words Kaitlin x

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A poem about a certain kind of community formed by drum circlers.

^

Heartbeat slowly fills the room,

Soulful thump, thump, slowly encircling

this rainbow band of hope seekers.

As the heartbeat lays the foundation,

another beat slides in,

the timeless thwack of the buffalo drum,

the stinging slap of a rim tone.

Shaker eggs come in from various parts of the room,

here and there a croaking frog finds its place,

ageless, primal and deep within.

Singing drum sprinkles light among the shadows,

a lonely kalimba adds it circus tone,

native flute deepens the spirit in which we gather.

The voices begin, slowly, softly,

build to a centering flow,

balancing collective notes of unity and connection.

Dancers enter the circle,

bodies in release moving freely to their inner songs

discovering beautiful symmetry in the music of others.

Drummers for justice.

dancers for peace,

delightful singers of spirit,

ragged, rousing band of dreamers filling the night sky.

Rising up like lost stars come home,

opening hands, invitation to join in

precious, unique ways

as the circle gets wider and wider.

We gather in loving kindness as witnesses

to healing beyond all hope,

compassion buffering the angry hordes,

dimming the devastation and designers of doom,

until they, too, see the light in the shadows.

The drumming ends in quiet softness,

gentle winds blow across our skin;

We look around the circle,

bless each other with our eyes and our hearts,

traipsing out into the night, suddenly full of promise.

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What beautiful imagery, Larry!

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Thank you Bruce!

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Okay. So, I wasn't planning on writing today, but I needed to sort through some anger and fear. Writing seemed to be the answer. I'm still feeling pretty raw about the incident, so the poem is raw as well.

I felt angry with a neighbor today.

The smoke from the fire

gave off a rancid odor

that burned my nostrils

causing my body to

tense

with

fear.

As children, we are rightfully taught

to fear fire

but what about the person

who starts

the fire (cue Billy Joel)?

What narrative am I telling

myself about

them?

Not good things, that's for sure.

Now I need to work on

rewiring my brain

to see this neighbor

as an equal in the Beloved Community

Not how I encountered them

for disturbing my privileges.

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Authenticity bleeds from this raw and vulnerable poem, Sarah.

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Thank you for your kind words, Bruce. It was a rough evening and the words needed a safe space.

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Lessons in community.

We need elders.

We need young ones.

We need a common Love

and we need to be sharing mundane

daily tasks.

Food

and mending

and building

and cleaning

are best.

Most of all

maybe

we need to see and be seen

making mistakes

sweating

screaming

frustrated

imperfect

growing

learning

forgiving

being forgiven

held.

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