Palestine | To Create...

My child,
Never forget you are
a child of the Beloved,
rocked in her gracious arms,
held safe under his gaze.
You are a child of the Beloved.
Not one of you turned away.
Not one of you held closer
than the other.

My child,
You are sisters and brothers of
one another, one family in the Beloved.
The earth does not belong to you,
its land and fruits, all gifts to be shared,
gifts to be tended,
just as the Beloved nurses you.

My child,
you are a child of the Beloved.
Not one of you more precious,
not one of you more cherished
than the other.
Mother and terrorist,
teacher and gunman,
oppressed and the oppressor,
rest in the lap of the Beloved
swathed in forgiveness,
all made whole.

My child,
do not forget you are a child
of the Beloved, compassion
and grace rain down upon you
with boundless, unselfish passion.

My child,
Child of the Beloved,
in gratitude,
be a mirror of your Beloved.

Author’s Note:

I struggled for a long time with how to write this poem. What form it should take? What exactly did I want to say?

I am a first grade teacher. Sandy Hook.

I live in Aurora. The Aurora Movie Theatre Shooting.

I live in Colorado. Columbine.

I am a United States citizen. 911.

The rest of the world has experienced terrorism for millennia, much longer and more intimately than I have. These current killings – Gaza and Ukraine – brought me back to the empty page.

I don’t know if it is due to my recent study of the Gospel of John with Fr. Scott Jenkins at my church. If it is the Celtic kirtan chant project I am involved in, with Macushla introducing me to the Irish lament. My recent immersion into Mary Magadlene, giving voice to her story in a monologue I wrote and will be performing later this year. Or my satsang friend, a mother, with a daughter in Israel and another friend, a mother, whose mother and father live in Palestine. It must be combination of all of these events and people that kept me from sleep this evening, muses that finally led me to this poem.

The insanity of killing one another must stop. I don’t know how, but I think it is summed up in a quote I read earlier this night from an Israeli. In response to a call for prayer from the Book of Isaiah, he said rather eloquently and simply:

“AMEN to Shalom over ego.”

I wish you peace this night and a blessing of surrender of ego.

Here is one of Macushla’s songs, “We Are Beloved of God.”

I feel the need today to open our hearts.

Yes, that means sacrifice. But understanding we are all in this together, that we are all created by One, makes me think that the way we have handled things isn’t working. The more we think we are “right” and fight to be “right” and to keep the stuff we’ve sold our souls to prove we are “right”, we strangle our ability to see each other as sisters and brothers.

I have a dear friend whose daughter lives in Israel and is running to bomb shelters at least twice a day. I have Palestinian friends with family also seeking shelter daily. All the while both sides are fighting because each side thinks they are “right.”

I’ve had children in my school who came to this country with their families seeking refuge from the horrors of their homeland. I think of my grandparents, one set from Poland, the other Yugoslavia, coming to America to escape war, hunger, and fear. Today, these children crossing our borders don’t care about being “right,” they want to be safe.

What is the poem on the base of our Statue of Liberty? The New Colossus is a sonnet by American poet Emma Lazarus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

I read a quote recently reminding me that Jesus started out as a child in exile. He asked of us one thing.

But remember the root command: Love one another.”
(John 15:9-16)

Love one another. Three simple words, but, oh, so hard to do. That means not to judge or condemn, explaining in case we needed the explanation. Just love one another. Period.

I wonder about why we always turn to war as the answer. Wasn’t it Einstein who said the definition of insanity is always doing what you’ve always done and expect something to change?

Maybe I’m naive and simple minded. Yes, it means letting go of ego and the physical stuff that the ego gorges on. But maybe, just maybe, if we stop focusing on that ego, we could see more clearly what we are doing not only to the souls who walk this earth, but Mother Earth herself.

Love one another. I wish we could just try it for a day and see what happens.

We can start. That’s how change happens. One person at a time, and that person is our self. Start there. Just one day? Not loving the “stuff” that defines us, but the Spirit that resides in each of us, no matter what we name the Spirit, it’s One and the Same.

At our end that’s all that will matter – our self. Not the stuff. So let’s one day take care of that beautiful soul that is us and recognize and uplift and care for It in others, too. Maybe, just maybe it will catch on.