talkin’ walkin’ with a friend unblues

baobab tree – art from google

talkin’ walkin’ with a friend unblues …

we shall walk this earth, along the rolling African plains, we shall dance with glee, in the cool gentle rains,

we shall wade through the wetlands, we shall sing in the streams, we shall live life as it should be lived, as we have lived it in our shared dreams,

we shall travel to far flung places filled with flavours spicy, and to ancient cities filled with wonder, we shall wear out our walking shoes, as through the miles we continue to wander,

we shall walk side by side, our journey taking us to places and to people unknown, we shall break bread with all, singing songs of different cultures, woefully out of rhythm and tone,

we shall walk hand in hand, two friends roaming so many a diverse land, feeling the powdery talcum sand under our feet, on so many a distant island,

we shall talk as we walk, of hopes and of fears, of broken souls whole again, of eyes no longer moist with tears,

we shall soak in the warmth of human contact, of languages seas apart, we shall learn to speak many tongues, bidding adieu to friends made along the way, for the memories within us will always stay,

so let us walk along these paths ahead, leaving it all behind, our tortured past to finally be shed, making the soft grasses our nightly bed,

sharing with all peoples of all races, all religions, all man-made divisions,

that the colour of the blood that pumps through all our veins,

is red.

a baobab tree – from google

untitled

from google

sidestepping shards of splintered glass, beyond the haze of billowing grass,

yesterday came, as today left, leaving me empty within, bereft,

so take my hand and walk with me awhile, beyond the tears, smuggling in a faint smile,

who knows the paths we’ll weave, as time trickles through its merciless sieve,

so take my hand and we’ll walk awhile,

a few steps today, and who knows,

tomorrow may be many a mile …

from google

migrant feet

The Immigrants Void – Sculpture by Bruno Catalano

http://brunocatalano.com/sculpture-bronze2/sculpture-en-bronze-bruno-catalano.php?galerie=1

migrant feet.

bleeding feet.

bare,
alien,
calloused feet,

that bleed,

trudging,
scraping souls,

seeking paths that lead,

somewhere,

anywhere from here,
from the horror of the now,

wiping bloody sweaty tears,
of grandmothers’ brow,

seeking refuge, sanctuary,

from bullets,

from epithets that wound,
that slay,

from men, always men,

puffed-up, inflated,
stuffed with raw venomous hate,

to be flotsam and jetsam,
adrift on the seas,

crammed into boxes,
clutching onto every choked breath,

seeking another fate,

not an asphyxiated blueish death,

tossed, seasick,
wracked and pained,

inside,
cattle-cars, slave-ships,

modernised mechanised terror,

the horror of self-righteous zeal,

nations, cultures,
tribes, traditions,
creed,

stoking the flames,
sectarian, communal,

the fuel on which bigotry must feed …

tiny feet, old and cracked,
all kinds of blistered twisted feet,

a death march along the treelined street,

seeking only alleyways of peace,

and,
perhaps,
perhaps, a bite to eat,

as gleaming chariots roll on by,

and if you’re thinking you’re safe,

if you’re thinking it isn’t us, its them,

him, her, they, those people,

for now,

think again,
and think how,

“… first they came for the communists … ” *

      
           _____________

* Pastor Martin Niemoller

http://tinyurl.com/oo45esm

from google

Hope always!

​deciphering silence

from google

​

deciphering silence …

you and i,

shielded by silence.

barred from ourselves at times.

exiled hearts,

building ramparts.

a wall that may fall.

so, my friend,

lay your head on my chest,

letting my fingers run through your hair,

lulling you gently to rest, as we share our silences,

for life is far too short anyway,

to squander even a day.

from google