a prayer for today*

for all that is precious and in peril… 



may all beings be safe from harm*
may all beings be at ease and happy*

may wisdom, democracy, and concern for the common good prevail over ignorance, tyranny, and greed*


(if you would like to join the sierra club’s efforts to support the paris climate agreement, please visit this page from the sierra club. to learn more about the folly of one of the most powerful people on this planet, visit this page from the new york times.)


for this day…

praying that our beloved natural places will survive…

each day, the legitimate news outlets reveal deeper and deeper levels of disregard by the leader of the current regime for everything of beauty, everything of soul. i move beyond disbelief to horror. these are indeed days for lamentation.


a poem for this day

today, as the governance of my country falls into the hands of powers which are no friend of the earth, my fears for the living world increase. today, i offer my prayers for the protection of our beloved planet and all beings*

(this poem which i wrote in 1991 resonates for me today.)

deep in the forest

for a while i walked lightly
through the wooded land,
seeking the comfort
nature had always brought me.
but somehow that day,
even though surrounded by the colors
and scents of autumn in the woods,
i could find no solace.
sinking to the earth in dismay,
i felt the tears fall into my hands
and onto the ground,
a large and heavy soulful rain,
and i could not stop the flow.
it was as if my ruptured heart
poured its life’s blood onto the soil,
an offering to the wounded land.
even deep in the forest,
i could feel the scars
of old wounds,
the slow work of poisons,
the anguish of unending desecration…
and pain permeated my being.
unashamed, i huddled there,
my soul pouring forth its salty gifts
as holy water,
hoping to heal at least some of the hurt
suffered by the living world,
and by my grieving spirit.

october, 1991
lakewood, ohio


for an exile

today, it seems that the familiar world has changed its face, becoming something i do not recognize. today, these words by the poet resonate within me… 

For an Exile

by John O’Donohue

When you dream, it is always home.
You are there among your own,
The rhythm of their voices rising like song
Your blood would sing through any dark.

Then you awake to find yourself listening
To the sounds of the traffic in another land.
For a moment your whole body recoils
At the strange emptiness of where you are.

This country is cold to your voice.
It is still a place without echoes.
Nothing of yours has happened here.

No one knows you,
The language slows you,
The thick accent smothers your presence.

You sound foreign to yourself;
Their eyes reflect how strange you seem
When seen across a cold distance
That has no bridge to carry
The charisma in which you friends
Delight at home.

Though your work here is hard,
It brings relief, helps your mind
In returning to the small
Bounties of your absence.

Evening is without protection;
Your room waits,
Ready to take you
Back like some convict
Who is afraid
Of the life outside.

The things you brought from home
Look back at you; out of place here
They take on a lonely power.

You cringe at the thought
That someone from home
Might see you now here,
In this unsheltered room.

Now is the time to hold faithful
To your dream, to understand
That this is an interim time
Full of awkward disconnection.

Gradually you will come to find
Your way to friends who will open
Doors into a new belonging.

Your heart will brighten
With new discovery,
Your presence will unclench
And find ease,
Letting your substance
And promise be seen.

Slowly a new world will open for you.
The eyes of your heart, refined
By this desert time, will be free
To see and celebrate the new life
For which you sacrificed everything.