Dreams On the Journey

by Jane Tawel

empty road surrounded with trees with fog
https://unsplash.com/photos/5FHv5nS7yGg

Dreams on the Journey

By Jane Tawel

July 6, 2021

*

Dreams often start skidding a bit,

when reality appears in the road.

And if we are carrying a load,

of a vision that won’t clear up,

smooth and pristine,

but rather gleans from us,

the weight of our meaning,

this gleaning,

is to be

and to see

what lies inert in the road –

well, that is the load we bear.

And yet, we compare

ourselves to the myth of ourselves

not sitting on shelves

but growing and changing,

ever rearranging into someone

that is the myth of our true wholeness.

So now, we can go with boldness,

into the might and right

and the true light from True Light,

ever loving and being loved.

Hither and yon,

to the hopeful beyond,

and all the parts of you and I

Become whole.

The goals of every holy scroll

keep rolling us on and on

Because that is who and what and

Why.

Our dreams become the answer

to the real Why.

And the road is never clearer

but only dearer.

And the task is never fearless,

but only nearer.

And we walk on,

dreaming despite the bumps in the road,

or the mist.

Because though we may miss the gist

We will bear witness.

And in the midst

We will resist the need to just exist.

But instead we will yearn to grow,

Becoming One with the journey’s flow.

© Jane Tawel 2021

A Prayer for Hole-ness

brown rock formation during daytime
https://unsplash.com/photos/AWoVDcSYgak

A Prayer for Hole-ness

By Jane Tawel

May 25, 2021

*

I often pray for whole-ness,

but just today I thought,

that I should pray for hole-ness,

to become what I ought.

Wholeness can often mean control,

but emptying should be my goal,

not only just to make me whole,

but to embrace the empty spaces,

and broken lives, and lonely faces,

of brothers, sisters, enemies–

through empathy come remedies.

For when I leave a legacy,

There won’t be much left of my soul,

Unless I leave a hole.

© Jane Tawel 2021

Listen With Your Heart — a poem

by Jane Tawel

https://unsplash.com/photos/7LsuYqkvIUM

Listen With Your Heart — a poem

By Jane Tawel

April 12, 2021

*

I don’t know why the birds keep singing, but they do.

When every thing is horrible. It’s true.

My mind is on the negative, transfixed.

The world is broken and our minds up-mixed.

*

I wake up every day and burn the wick down,

Before my feet have even touched the hard ground.

But little bird is on a branch a-sway,

With ne’er a worry of the coming day.

*

If God is in the Heavens, He’s in birds, too.

And that would mean, that God’s in me and you.

*

Oh, listen to what can be heard, unseen.

And lessons from the birds and creatures, glean.

There is a cosmic beauty, love, and grace,

In every feather, furry paw, and face.

*

We soldier on, when we should really dance.

And let the glory of the world entrance.

Today I will from mindful prison part,

And listen to the whole world, with my heart.

©Jane Tawel 2021

Life-Lines — a poem

by Jane Tawel

https://unsplash.com/photos/se3tHNszbkM

Life-lines — a poem

By Jane Tawel

March 19, 2021

*

When I was young,

my mind and heart

were intertwined

like scribbled lines.

When one is young,

separating scrambled lines

is the monumental task

of growing-up.

I failed at much of it

but some lines straightened,

into the miracle of

Due North.

The dots and dashes,

the broken, mended bits of line

Still encompass and still

compass me forth.

*

When I became

Two, and then more;

and “my” became “our”

heart, mind and soul;

We formed a new me.

And I took the bow of us in hand, and

formed a straight arrow;

a line, shooting, aimed,

undeviating in communion,

unswerving in love;

propelling my life.

A streak of light — 

like the tail of a comet.

My love for you

became the trued lines of fortune

in the palms of my hands.

My love for you was

a life-line branching out,

like the shoots of roots

from an unbowed, unbending tree.

Like a line with no end,

I became

my love for you.

*

Now I grow old

and the lines of my life

form circles.

Circling, and circling, and circling;

back and around, back and around…

and sometimes I grow dizzy,

and sometimes I become whole.

The center holds

in the spiral of my life.

© Jane Tawel 2021

Sky and Earth in Rain- 4 Poems

by Jane Tawel

https://unsplash.com/photos/bWtd1ZyEy6w

Sky and Earth in Rain

Four Poems

By Jane Tawel

March 13, 2021

Poem One

*

Sky’s brow sweats with labor;

the earth is replenished

with heaven’s pleasing perspiration.

Earth, in her turn, turns.

Round and round and round

flinging ocean, sea, and pond

back into Sky’s opened-mouth face.

Sky as Heaven, Earth as Gaia,

powerful in servitude to each other;

delighting in shared toiling.

Earth dances, opening herself up

to Sky’s rain and — 

both, so in love!

Heaven and Gaia merge,

symbiotic in creation.

*

Poem Two

*

The blues of sky are borne-away

and seeming dead in grey hues,

mourning clouds as black as burial clothes,

the world looks up at the bereavement.

Only the old folks will watch the sky

and know — 

Surprising endings make the best stories.

*

Ah, the sky’s eyes are tearing-up!

Only the parents know

the welcome oxymoron of the heavens’ happy tears.

Light, though hidden, eyes though clouded,

Love’s light, like the sun, never leaves the heart.

*

Rain is heavens’ tears shed in joy.

The skies know that nothing ever really dies.

The casket opens around the keening clouds.

The heavens resurrect themselves

pouring the gift of life

into earth’s open-armed delight.

*

Poem Three

*

The canopy of sky folds,

and through the gaps of cover,

all heaven breaks loose;

the earth is bathed from head to toe.

And dirty roots and filthy feet and pining pinnacles,

are washed with grace of falling rain.

*

Poem Four

*

The sky husbands the earth,

his seed pours forth,

and earth open’s up to sky’s embrace.

*

Love, given and received;

the over-whelming mystery of earth and sky,

true soul- mates, wed forever,

bearing all.

The earth opens to

all sky’s love -spent pourings.

And at earth’s breast

all children are fed.

New life from married bliss.

© Jane Tawel 2021

Creating – a poem

By Jane Tawel

Photo by Sergey Zolkin on Unsplash

Creating

A Poem by Jane Tawel

December 28, 2020

*

I love to poke the “create” button.

Such chutzpah to think I have that gift.

And while I watch the swirling rainbow,

While waiting, not with patience,

But with expectant need

I think of the Greats, and trembling yearn

To hide behind their shadows once again.

And then I dare anyway.

*

To take a flutter at this desk,

Is rather like a gamble,

Where I am always betting against the house.

I hope my tics and tells won’t distract

From thoughts that try to cheat me from my life.

I let the chips fall where they may — 

Will it be prose or rhyme today?

And out it pours like dreideled coins,

My soul to chance this wager with my mind.

*

It seems a rather small thing,

This time I take to make words sway.

And though my jig is awkward,

And graceless is my tongue,

I’ve entered into meaning

In The Great Dance we all are from.

And just by trying, I Am Become.

became. become. has become. 

Becoming. Will Become…?

*

For whether thoughts are light or dark

There are in words, that divine spark

Where our imagination lives,

And where our hearts peek out of hiding

Like sprites and fairies. Like supernatural beings.

Words, like gods once seen.

For humans leave no trace behind

‘Cept dust and shards and love.

Yet on a tattered page or flickering screen

We join our solitary syllables

into an Us Eternal.

© Jane Tawel 2020

A Love Poem

by Jane Tawel

November 30, 2020

Photo by Filipe Almeida on Unsplash

A Love Poem

By Jane Tawel

November 30, 2020

*

Your eyes,

Are the color of memories

I thought I had forgotten.

But they light up my dreams

And waking I remember

who I am with you.

*

Your laugh

is rare and stingy;

Like a coin that grows in value,

The longer it is out of circulation.

I hoard the things that I can say

To make your laughter fibrillate to life.

*

Your hands

have seen their share of work

and show the wear of worry.

But gently, gently they caress away

the stress of days gone sideways.

We touch in circles of meaning

And fill what felt so empty.

*

Your arms

Strong from gathering

the provisions of a thousand needs.

We lock arms together

 like wrestlers taking on the world

and rocking infant prayers for peace

 to sleep.

*

Your heart

Not beating, but ticking to my tocking.

And all the love we ever felt

Timeless, rages

against the seasons and the tides.

*

You—

 not in parts,

But  part

of the fused soul

We make from two halves.

And sometimes

We

Are whole.

(c) Jane Tawel 2020

Puzzling With Purpose

“puzzle time” by Sherri Lynn Wood is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Puzzling With Purpose

By Jane Tawel

November 14, 2020

These past months as I have been reading and circling through the deep treasures in books by Victor Frankel, Abraham Joshua Herschel, Shane Claiborne, Gary Wills, A.W. Tozer, and Chief Joseph Riverwind, I have been filled with the paradoxes of longing/knowing, seeking/ remembering, learning/ yearning, and wondering/wandering. I have also felt myself taking spiritual baby-steps, and as another favorite of mine, C.S. Lewis wrote, heading a bit “further up and further in”.

My readings led me to rough-draft through a slight meditative acrostic. As the old adage goes, “writing is never finished, it is only due”; and maybe if we thought more that way about each day, each life, each person, we’d be a bit more joyful, caring, kind, and hopeful in our life’s journeys toward meaning. Aren’t writing and communication always really just today’s rough draft in expressing who I think I am, what I think the Big Themes are? Isn’t each day of life, just a bit of a second draft on yesterday, and another rough draft today, with hopes for perfection, or at least a passing grade, for tomorrow?

I enjoy word puzzles, but then I think that everything we human beings say or do or write are chock- full of puzzles — puzzles of intent, puzzles of consequences, puzzles of meaning. We are after all the species who speaks, the critters who communicate; we are the beings who are perhaps, just a little lower than the angels, but constantly fighting our own worst demons.

In general, I adhere to the wisdom that in writing, function should always come first and come first from the heart and later the head. But sometimes it is useful to start with form, and then find function in the very strictures imposed. I thought perhaps that was an especially interesting philosophy to play around with when looking at some of what we call the issues and ideas I have about “Life’s Meaning”. So, I started with the form of an acrostic to see where it led me about the function of expressing thoughts on what “it all” means, this Life. I also liked this idea since a form of acrostic is a form of poetry that was used in some of the Psalms of Judaism and the ancient Hebrews; and those are poems I have long loved, because they express still the universal human longings for meaning that all people have.

When we look for meaning, as all humans do, we are unaware of how the puzzle pieces will all fit together. We see only the edge of today, the bent pieces we messed-up yesterday, the corner of the puzzle we have almost, not quite put together, perhaps because we fear we are missing a piece. Then there is the fact that the Table holds lots of people’s puzzles and some of us are working on our own deciphering as well as the ciphers of several others’. Sometimes we try to put together the puzzle with someone else, but each person isn’t necessarily working on the same part of the puzzle, or even the same type of puzzle that we are. While I am working on this part of the jigsaw, someone I love may be working on another part, and so our communication with each other may end up frustrating or confusing us both; like someone trying to communicate with Morse Code while the other one is using JavaScript. Perhaps the greatest life mystery is how we ever manage to communicate at all in a truly meaningful way with another human being.

We are constantly in the rough draft stage of writing our own life story. But we are never meant to go it alone. We may look inwards, outwards, upwards, and beyond for hints and clues. We will have good and bad “teachers”, fans of our story, critics and foes; helpful and harmful life-story editors, sacrificial helpers, guides and mentors, promoters and beneficiaries. It is, always, however, at the end of each page, my story to write. And it must be my decision about who and what I will keep in, and what I will edit out, in order to form the great themes in my own life-story.

Every life-story is looking for meaning and each is the same as all the others, and each is completely unique and separate from anyone else’s. This is the paradoxical puzzle of You and We and I.

So back to acrostics and writing one. In all writing, we may start with form and hope function follows. Or we might embrace function and trust the form will naturally evolve. I think it more likely, though, when all is said and done, that every story, like every life, is a patchwork of form and function, not seamless, but beautiful in its complexity. Maybe when we are most in touch with our search for meaning, we ebb and flow between form and function, perpetually and poetically in motion. Like a river. Like a breeze. Like a baby being rocked in the arms of a Loving Parent. Like the whole world circling towards Tomorrow and coming back around to Now. Like a Story that will have no End.

I think it is important however an individual chooses to do it, that he chooses intentionally, purposefully, with great wells of deep hope — to work on the puzzle of his own life’s meaning. By searching for and finding my own meaning, I find The Meaning of all human quest and all human concern. In this way, my part of The Puzzle, is connected to all the parts of The Puzzle, and I am connected to all others in time and space in this great experiment God has granted us. The earth experiment that we are part of, we participate as subjects of it. At the same time, it is the experiment we humans on Earth are researching and overseeing, supervising, hypothesizing about, and reaching conclusions by which to live. We are both the supervisors and the substance of The Grand Experiment of Creating a Meaningful Life.

Find your puzzle today, whether it is a book whose themes you wrestle with to decipher; a relationship with someone you try to understand better; or a task that makes your brain sting and sing. Formulate your questions, and don’t rush the answers. Enjoy each day as a rough draft, that will only get better in tomorrow’s version. But for today be content to sit awhile with the great mysteries in the heartbeats of your very own little puzzle of a life.

And whenever possible, as The Good Parents always advise their children to do: Whenever you are puzzling out meaning? Try to use your words.

© Jane Tawel 2020

Star Trail - 1
“Star Trail – 1” by cknara is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

An Acrostic

By Jane Tawel

L ove first — The Creator and the Created.

I can, I must, I Will myself to do it.

F ollow the Leaders of Light and Servants of Hope.

E mbrace Mystery. She is Wisdom’s Helpmeet.

Pause and Punctuate the Moments.

S eek Eternal Values found outside the temporary storehouses.

M ates and moments are more precious than money.

E njoy the journey. Take one step at a time; look around at everything; look ahead with imagination; look behind with forgiveness.

A gain and Again, Time is our Current. Time is the Tide flowing backwards and forwards, until it becomes The Circle, covering over, revealing; an endless ebb and flow of the Big Questions, and the Last Mysteries.

N ice-ness in narcissism is a fool’s paradise; but Truth in Love is heaven seeking earth.

I n the care of the soul, perfect calling meets greatest need.

N othing can separate us from The Love without our permission. Grant Love permission to have the last say and the ultimate power.

G od asks only for enough faith to do Good.

S halom; and in Wholeness is Beginning and Ending.

© Jane Tawel 2020

Cancelled: Festivity in The Time of Corona Virus

by Jane Tawel

party

“party” by sundaymay is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Cancelled: Festivity in the Time of Corona Virus

A Poem

By Jane Tawel

November 1, 2020

*

Is it a party, if nobody comes?

Is it a fete, with a guest list of one?

Festivals, shindigs, and things we’ve once done,

During pandemics don’t seem very fun!

*

Last eve wasn’t “hallowed”,

Candy dishes weren’t shallowed,

And what is the point when traditions aren’t followed?

*

And when we don’t cheer,

Together with beer,

To celebrate wins and our teams—

Well, I wonder, just what it all means?

*

And churches prodigious,

Well, are they really religious,

If they gather for Christmas,

only if they’re litigious?

*

Welcome, peoples and nations,

To 2020 Celebrations!

It’s a whole new shebang,

For friends, families, and gangs.

But I’ve found if I try,

There’s a party inside,

That I just can not hide,

if true love is my guide.

So let’s take some new pride,

In being clear-eyed,

‘bout the new love we bring,

To our current wingdings,

Cuz you know, here’s the thing,

This virus can sting!

So, we just can not cling,

to the Past’s everything.

And I’d rather not break bread,

With you, if you’ll be dead,

Or if I’ll be deceased,

If I host a great feast.

*

For the people who claim,

It must all stay the same,

For the playing of games

or the days we acclaim

To be fun’s only fame—

I guess I must note,

that it’s best to devote,

all your talents and smarts,

to the home found in our hearts.

*

If you want to show love,

Or praise Someone above,

Then you don’t need the past,

Just the true things that last.

And the families and teams?

Well, c’mon, what they mean,

Is that we can be strong,

Even with no great throng.

Cuz the things that remain,

Have not ever been gained,

Without big or small pain.

Let’s not whine or complain,

But seek things more humane.

And those things can be found,

Even when gone to ground,

Are the pamperings and hankerings,

Of having big gatherings.

*

There is joy to possess,

 Happiness to access,

If you give in to fun,

With your party of one.

*

Let’s prepare for tomorrow,

And not greet things with sorrow,

Like our changed celebrations.

We can find jubilation,

If we just are aware,

And our hearts, we prepare

To learn these new lessons,

And keep counting our blessings.

*

There will still be a Christmas, and Hanukkah, too,

And we all can still “Skype”, “Happy, Birthday, to you!”

We can worship or “yay, rah”,

At home in pajamas!

Yes, we miss fests and fairs,

But we have to take care,

And though groups are desirous,

They can’t be with this Virus.

*

So, the hullabaloos,

I miss having with you,

Will just have to wait,

‘til pandemics abate.

Until then, I’ll be glad,

For the good times we’ve had.

And I’ll do my part,

To keep hope in my heart,

That though, now we are distanced,

If we just stay persistent,

things are going to get better,

and we’ll soon be together.

*

And though we can’t gather,

I would really much rather,

Find my own joy in waiting,

And my love demonstrating,

by long distance relating,

from the sickness mutating.

Oh! when Covid stalemates,

we will all Celebrate!

*

With most fests at a sad and regrettable end,

And upcoming Winter’s feasts just ‘round the bend,

Dust your doldrums off the old memory shelf,

Celebrate your aliveness! And your dear, best own self!

*

And before we all know it,

There’ll be new ways to show it,

When we want to amass,

And throw parties and blasts.

*

Happy Good Day to We,

Who will sagely agree,

That today we’ll care less,

For the past. We will press

Onward, forward, and through,

So that both I and you,

Will one day have alliance,

Gathered in our great triumph.

For by being alone,

For awhile, we found Home.

And we’ll all be more hardy,

The next time we can Party!

*

As October now fades,

Without fetes or parades,

Find a new joy in knowing,

Your immune system’s growing.

In your own company stay,

For each coming holiday.

Bunker down in your room,

With some good friends on “zoom”.

Know you’re truly the best,

When you care for the rest.

By forgoing tradition,

You are on a great Mission!

*

So, don’t be sad this Thanksgiving,

Just be glad you’re still living!

And we’ll buck up our fears,

and wipe lonely tears,

with the hope we’ll all cheer,

When we greet The New Year!

*

© Jane Tawel 2020

The Problem Is, It Isn’t True

A Poem about Lies, Liars, and Truth

Kernels of Truth
“Kernels of Truth” by Daveblog is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

The Problem Is, It Isn’t True

A Poem

By Jane Tawel

October 13, 2020

*

Remember when it was we two,

And we believed we could imbue,

A moral, high-road point of view,

in others and in me and you?

And when someone, a child or friend,

Would through a maze of untruths wend,

I used to say this thing to you:

“The problem is, it isn’t true”.

*

And we would laugh or roll our eyes,

And then to child or friend, advise

Them not the truth to compromise,

 By telling tales or telling lies.

*

Those days are gone and Time has passed,

And I thought we’d all changed at last,

But daily now I am aghast,

How easily Truth is miscast.

And I have found myself in mourning,

At all the lies that round are swarming,

And so, I offer up this warning:

By all means keep your point of view,

But when you think that lies serve you?

Or that from guile, good can accrue?

The problem is, it isn’t true.

*

Yes, lately I have déjà vu,

And my world-view has gone askew,

‘Cuz’ people that I thought I knew,

Support the liars through and through.

I fear they take the overview,

That in the long run lies accrue

The good they think to them is due.

The problem is?  That’s never true.

*

For lies and liars create strife

That have a lasting afterlife.

And nothing can make crooked, true

Unless all of us – me and you–

With humbleness and fortitude,

Change up complacent attitudes.

*

Reject the falsehood of rapacity,

And speak against evil mendacity.

We can not remain dumb and docile,

Nor shun the true Tao of the Gospel.

In Truth plus Love we find capacity,

To have both Goodness and Veracity.

*

We all are tempted to deceive,

And often tall-tales we will weave,

In our attempt to change or woo,

a “someone” that we’re hankering to,

Convince to our skewed point of view.

And I say, “skewed” because my eyes,

Are often blinded to the lies

That I can tell the whole day long,

To keep from saying that I’m wrong.

I like to think I’ve got the facts,

and those who disagree are lax

in proving things that I don’t take to;

And so, I swear ‘til I am blue,

That I am always right; Not you!

The problem is?  That isn’t true.

*

It is so easy to convince,

Myself that it’s okay to mince,

The accuracy of my quarrel.

The problem is? It isn’t moral!

*

We love to praise our own virtue,

Even when wrong, I’ll vanquish you.

And if we tell a lie or two?

So what? Aren’t we entitled to

Our own self-serving point of view?

My lies don’t hurt or effect you!

The problem is? That isn’t true.

For lies and lying hurt us all,

Which has been obvious since The Fall.

Today lies are in full free-fall,

We really must get on the ball,

To right the wrongs and testify

That Truth must live and lies must die.

*

To think we can crush someone’s dream,

To merely win for our own team;

Or that to save sculpture or fetus,

We’ll worship guys who lie and cheat us.

If we keep serving fame and gold,

We’ll find the center can not hold.

For whom we serve, we soon become.

For good or evil, we’ll succumb

To what we’ve hitched our wagon to;

We’ll be the lie, if we shun truth.

*

It’s time that we were all more honest.

Let’s not put up with all this nonsense,

Of fudging on the whole of content

or taking words out of their context.

We take one part and misconstrue.

The problem is, it isn’t true.

*

Our airwaves flow with fierce locution,

That fills weak minds with hate’s pollution,

And falsifies truth’s attribution,

With shallow lies as substitution.

We all must ask for absolution,

For making lies our contribution.

To fix our problems and confusion,

There are more ethical solutions.

Let’s all enhance our elocution

And stop this wreck of devolution.

By Holy Writ or Constitution —

Let TRUTH lead us in REVOLUTION!

*

So, as I look around me now

I’m truly shocked that we allow,

The people who are charged to lead,

Lie only to protect their greed.

We honor lies and even flatter

The liars and their fibbing patter;

As if the truth no longer mattered.

*

And when I’m super skeptical,

Is when they claim they’re ethical.

We all know Truth is black and white,

Hence, lying just is never right.

No matter when, what, where or who,

We all should have to tell the Truth.

*

When lies and liars are our leaders,

We’ve elevated bottom feeders

And said that somehow we forgive them,

Because we hope our cause outlives them.

But thinking this is so perverse,

That all throughout the universe,

There’s not a god or creed agreeing,

That can to falsehoods grant well-being.

So, all those prayers and thoughts we do

To Gods who see us through and through?

Those prayers are like cud that sheep chew.

God promises that He will spew

From out His mouth, all that’s untrue.

For in Love’s Eyes, it’s not our gains

That will forever long remain,

And hands that sleight,

Won’t see The Light;

For One Day, Love will make Truth, Right.

*

God is not mocked by lies and liars;

He expects us to go higher

Than thinking we can get away

By choosing evil for today,

In some vague hope, Good will ensue,

Despite the fact, it isn’t true.

*

It really is, in fact, medieval,

To think Good ever comes from evil.

Our lies make us much more primeval

And there’s no way for a retrieval,

Of goodness, once we are deceitful.

There has to be world-wide upheaval.

To make the playing fields more equal.

From palace steps to rich cathedrals,

Let Truth ring out from house to steeple!

*

We tell ourselves our cause is just,

And so lies do not matter much;

If later greater good is served,

Then all will get what they deserve;

And then we’ll bid the lies, “Adieu.”

The problem is?  That won’t be true.

(Lies feel so good when I crush you.)

*

For lies are catching, like disease.

When we have learned to, with great ease,

Accept the bullies who deceive;

We’ll never rise above the sleaze.

When we start down that slippery slope,

To gain back truth, we’ve not a hope.

We claim the fall out, we’ll undue.

The problem is, that won’t come true.

It’s not so easy to make right,

The wrongs we do for gain and might.

Once lies escape Pandora’s Box,

One never can turn back the clocks.

Once lying has become addiction,

It’s hard to tell what’s fact or fiction.

We think we will, but we can’t do it.

The line’s perverted; we can’t true it.

*

Let’s start today and take it slow.

Admit there’s things we do not know.

But if we don’t, we have to try

To keep from justifying lies.

If you help me, and I help you,

Together we’ll accept the truth.

And that means we won’t know a lot,

But still we can do what we ought.

*

If we say “Can”, instead of “Cannot”,

We’ll save our neighbors and the Planet.

Wholeness is plausibility,

But not by prideful falsity.

The problem isn’t clarity;

It’s just our fear of verity.

*

By letting liars have their say,

We’ve lost our souls and lost The Way.

We must stand up and must refuse,

To let the lies become our views.

*

It’s up to me and up to you,

and in our own hearts to undo,

this tendency to twist and skew

what simply isn’t really true.

I know it feels good, through and through,

To have our team fill up the pews,

And to believe that we’ll accrue,

Rewards no matter what we do.

The problem is?

It isn’t true.

*

We have to call out all the whoppers,

‘Bout how the rich are treating paupers.

We have to quit our foolish praising,

Of those adept at coarse evading.

We should be shocked at the audacity,

Of perilous and rank mendacity.

What has gone wrong in church and nation,

To cause wide-spread prevarication?

*

The Truth be told, a lie’s a lie.

No wiggle room to comprise.

Each one of us tends to pursue,

Just what we want to think and do.

We tell ourselves that we’ll get through,

And THEN we’ll find new points of view,

And uphold good for me and you.

But we forget the why or how to;

And just like Pilate asked The Good Jew:

“Why not let people crucify you?

Our problem is?

 So? What is Truth?”

*

Tomorrow never comes unless

Today we choose to do our best;

For yesterday is plenty proof,

That lies will never become Truth.

The Path is narrow, and The Way,

Is only clear for just this Day.

Choose Goodness, Love, Humility.

Choose Kindness and Veracity.

And if we tackle this World’s sorrows,

Together we can make tomorrow,

A Time that’s better through and through.

What once was crooked, will be trued.

*

I hope today when I’m enticed,

To make my lies seem like they’re nice,

Or when I try to win or score,

I’ll stop to realize that there’s more,

To being all I’m meant to be;

And I will pause and take a knee.

Not worshipping a flag or book,

But truly taking a hard look

At what is meant to be my role,

In seeking wholeness for my soul.

And that means doing the hard labor,

Of scorning lies, and loving neighbor.

*

And on my knees, I’ll look inside

And realize that I can not hide,

From Truth and Love and Light and You

And that whenever I try to,

I pray that Love will win and woo,

With Words that lovingly undo,

The falsehoods in my own worldview.

*

Today I draw lines in the sand,

For with True Truth, my soul must stand.

Let’s fight the fight, Friend; me and you?

And Right will Win,

For Love is True.

*

Let’s all to others, grace bestow.

Accept there’s much we do not know.

In Truth and Love we all should grow.

The low made high, the high brought low.

And to a Heaven on Earth we’ll go.

The answer is?

May it be so.

© Jane Tawel 2020