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Is God Asleep

I choke on soot, my homeland shudders;
“Is God asleep?” the prophet mutters.
With fire on my tongue, how brave can I be?
Braver than ships exploring the sea?
Mine are the questions that no one answers;
At half past midnight, I join the dancers.
With reverence and gratitude I pause—
The white wolf takes me gently in his jaws.


Couplets © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
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An artist’s rendition of a motorcycle on a wall in Ajo, Arizona
April is the cruellest month… (T.S. Eliot)

~~ 1 ~~
first week of April—
erasing from memory
my distant homeland
~~ 2 ~~
First week of April—
sorrow swallows my spirit,
keening shreds my tongue.
~~ 3 ~~
First week of April—
a cry stays stuck in my throat,
a cry of despair.
~~ 4 ~~
First week of April—
as the wrens and robins sing,
I claw at my eyes.
~~ 5 ~~
first week of April—
crawling back from despair’s brink
one song at a time

Haiku © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
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 photo Sunsetfence_zps2ddeef37.jpg
November sunset, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona

Fleeing their homeland,
a mother and three children
move from star to star—
four hundred yards from freedom,
barbed fencing crushes their dream.

Tanka and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
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