You said you saw our baby last night,
The one we will never have;
Our dream baby.

I was holding her
Against my shoulder
Blanket pulled up around her little head
And I turned to you and said something banal,
Like grab the bottle from the fridge, darling.

And we have found each other beyond
The years of babies.
You have yours and I have mine, already,
And they have all reached the far side  
Of dog-tired  
Midnight dream feeds
In a cedar rocking chair.

You and I have both already been
There;

This continent we will never walk together.

But I feel her now,
Our dream baby,
In everything.

She rests there in the gentle way you caress my face
As starlight plays across the blankets.
She clings close to your laughter,
Curled inside your fervent and unrelenting
Belief in me.

And in the mirrored chambers of your hazel eyes,
When I am laid beside you and softly
Humming my mother’s
Oldest
Lullaby;
It is there, I can feel her smile,
Our dream baby,

A love beyond ages,
A sacred creation
Between your soul and mine.

“So there stood Matthew Arnold and this girl
With the cliffs of England crumbling away behind them,
And he said to her, "Try to be true to me,
And I'll do the same for you, for things are bad
All over, etc. etc." - Anthony Hecht

All I have ever been,
Is a girl
With the heart of a flower
Red in the hurricane winds
Red through the dust
That disguises the slaughter.

I can still see the bodies,
Red on the broken streets,
Red on the surface of the sea
Red on the plains that are rapidly darkling

And the ignorance is markedly
Growing.

The children bleed out in Aleppo,
in Gaza, Darfur, Yemen, Caracas, more;
Tiny bodies pressed between bricks
Like little flowers crushed in hard bindings,
Or innocence impaled on the blades of
Savagery and shame,

Like so many
Crucified prophets.

The puppeteers of these armies are

Irrevocably  

*******

Heartless;

Yet, let the wildflowers bloom
Reclaim the humanity that is ours to
Own. I command my heart to open like a sunflower to the moon.

We can’t ever give up.
We must keep standing
For all who are falling, kicked down the cliffs on bleeding knees,
Crawling.

Dig into the dust;
Plant a flowering heart in these arid crossings:

Grow here

Bright fields of compassion.

Let them bloom red,
Like our open hearts
Beating for our sons and daughters.

I speak with my own voice,
But at my shoulder,
An unconquerable army,
Quiet, ready.

And that army is his heart.