We sat in rows in classrooms. We laughed and squirmed and raised our hands. Pretty girls, awkward boys. Pretty boys, boyish girls. Dervish whirls and eyes. Teacher, teacher, tell us true. You have seen us, bright and blue. We were meek and we were wise. You taught us, and we taught you. Some were lies, some were true. Teacher, teacher. Teacher, teacher, teacher. * I don’t resolve, but I do […]
My life is a slow sentence — written in faith and served with relish. . [ 1657 ]
When the fig leaves fell, they were bright and deep beneath the tree. Now their color has seeped into the ground, and the grass is growing up through me. It’s a fine time. A rhyme time. A time like every other time I see. No time. Flow time. Rain time. Snow time. Free. . [ 1656 ]
Everyone is clever. Everyone’s in sales. Oh, how the wind blows — then the light fails, And reason pales to dark walls, Night calls, wood, nails. . [ 1655 ]
Can I be so free of belief that I’m surprised by the sunrise? Or, should I say, by the smile in your eyes? . [ 1653 ]
Every newborn is a perfect gift to the world. That fact doesn’t change, even when we believe and act otherwise. Someday, when all children grow up knowing they’re a perfect gift to the world, there will be no more war. There will be no culture of greed, anger, and retaliation, and no need to prove who’s stronger. There will be universal acceptance, cooperation, and gratitude for each other’s unique insights […]
Look at them. Some are so small, they seem only feathers and a heartbeat. And though we’re made differently, we’re made of the same things, and share the same breath. To me, this isn’t just poetry, religion, or science. It’s miraculous, inspiring, intimate. Thank goodness I don’t need to prove its significance, or tell you what it means. You already know we’re here to love each other, ourselves, and all […]
Object and form, with thanks to space for giving them place and grace, and all we can’t, or don’t, discern. . [ 1650 ]
Can you imagine one snowflake telling another, You’re not doing it right? . [ 1649 ]
William Michaelian 