In this photo by Brennan Cavanaugh, we sing the memory of our Trip to Trump Tower last Tues. We sang last week in a public garden that the city insisted the Trump company build into their tower, as a trade for zooming up 20 stories higher than the limit.
We sing here, remembering the moment that we implored the honeybees straying in the blue sky above to come down to our fake corporate garden, somehow start life up here on the ledge of baby-shit-pink granite and little toy Japanese maples and the dozens of secret service and cops - come to our glorified balcony jutting from the 5th floor, of edge on the ledge.
Melania is the queen locked in the tower of the castle - how old is that myth? May the sacred feminine burst from her penthouse prison. And Barron, did you hear our gospel ringing up through the glassy air-shaft? Come to us Barron and run away with the circus. Its prodigal son time...
We are singing to the honeybees in the sky to take Barron and Melania on their backs and come down to our flowerless garden. We will take down the patriarch together. Earthalujah!
Windy ancient feeling this morning. I made my way through the joggers to get into the thick canopies of leaves in the park. I have to find a forest to hide in. It really is like escaping into the womb. The undulating waves of leaves remind me of the soft wall of a woman, who lets her lover cross the border.
Isn’t that the antidote for today’s violence? No wonder the hippies kept shouting “Peace and Love.” The invitation to that erotic burst of the senses seems to break down the nations and corporations and churches and armies - those wall-makers that give us the perma-wars, the racist occupation of our cities, the fossil fuel extraction from the Earth…
We worry that we can't counter these dark forces, but then I see all these mothers and children. When a mother-to-be accepts the love and that seed comes alive, then her body’s safety surrounds the new life. This is a secure peace directly from love. Mothers push their babies down the sidewalks, and that love is already out in the violence, but a small, portable space where the official madness cannot reach.
We know that violence awaits the children as they grow up. Peace through hate, the current American policy in the world, awaits us all. That ‘s where Mother’s Day comes in. Founded by Julia Ward Howe in the 1880’s, this day was an activist push for peace by women. Oh, the fingers and tongues in the leaves of the forest!