A man standing well off to the side of a convenience store . Looking cold from the chill in the air and with a well worn roller bag next to him . Big eyes with a look of kindness against his weathered face which clearly held some stories .
Suddenly i was looking to see if I had any cash with me . Yes, I did . It was a moment of certainty after that . I walked towards him . He was gracious and thankful . He began to say something . He hesitated seeming lost a bit . ” You don’t have to tell me your story because I already understand it ” I said . A moment of connection that takes me to my heart .
Late afternoon sun inspiring a drive to the water’s edge . The coolness in the air nearly stopped a walk on the beach . It was a day that could have been early spring or fall . The light from the sun was diffused by clouds and yet also giving a comforting warmth in the breezes .
I stopped at a bench and sat for a bit . It was low tide though the water seemed to be coming back in . Small waves on top of small waves and the light shimmering and dancing along the water’s surface . Looking out and looking in as I sometimes call it . Looking beyond the day’s events and freeing one’s mind .
It was just then that I noticed a bird sitting atop of a piling , exposed by low tide , out in the water . Looking more intently I reared that it wasn’t just any bird but rather an Eagle . I remained for a bit longer . I began hoping that I’d get to witness his flight and just as I stood up to go this wonderful bird took flight from his perch .
He soared with such grace and beauty . I stood watching , taking it in , and whispering ” thank you .”
In the deep quiet of the night there used to live an endless invitation to set your spirit to soaring . A time set aside for discovery and an opportunity to break the boldest or the most mysterious bonds holding onto you .
Now in the dead of the night are the children . Children that did not ask for this life . Children being criminalized simply for being alive . Children being whisked through airports like some strange secret , like a lie .
The wailing , the visceral sounds of the wailing of the innocent babes and their Mamas being torn apart will follow these men in charge to their graves . They don’t know it yet . But it will . Haunting a spirit for evermore will be the suffering caused by the deeds of men with no heart and no soul .