From “Handful of Gravel, Voices & Mandalas”

The bombing the smoke & fire underground

in basements you share one plate of potatoes a week

no clothing-change same pants same garments same shoes & socks

& no socks no water—I said this before

you heard this before

here in this tiny agricultural town in California

it does not matter where I am it doesn’t matter where you are

all that matters is your life

your family your body your wholeness & humanity

& all the half-bodies exploded on the streets of Ukraine

voice #2

We shall sew them back

make them whole again with our blood

close & far

every day every night

this story unwinds itself this poem unwinds itself

this war unwinds itself & expands

the women speak up

the women members of the Ukrainian Parliament speak up

they stare directly at the camera they see you & me

we see them where are we now? Who

are we now? What is distance? Where is peace?

What drives the rage & bombs & cruise missiles

w/o a cause

voice #7

Nadia plays her violin once again

Nadia stands & her face comes to you &

to me & her face is the melody we all wanted

even though it is painted with sadness & longing & loss

it is painted with her last melodies of hope

& strength & courage from something

rooted in the magma of the mass graves

the starry bluish sigh of Ukraine

smearing & wetting the night skies with blood light

glittering in search

of a bent bicycle on the side of the street

all it finds are refugees with hands holding a bowl of hot soup

from the incredible boiling kettles of Poland

the steam rises

warms a child & the mother

voice #10

It all shall begin again