Flying Spirit

Te Amo, she turns her head, she hasn’t heard that in awhile, she’s a migrant worker, and an illegal, she is waitressing,  the cook is flirting with her again, she smiles. Meanwhile there are three tables that need to be cleared and three other girls like her, vulnerable, waiting to take her job, no slip ups. She passes a table, two men in suits, are they immigration, she pretends not to look, we ordered two coffee’s one says. She nods, rushes to the table, her eye on the two men, are they there to spy on her. Being an illegal is hard work, she has moved every six months, trying to keep ahead of the posse. She possess’s a secret, one she can’t explain, not in the normal meaning of the word; she carries the Holy Spirit inside her. Remain calm, she repeats this to herself daily, evening, before sleep, calm, you live inside me she explains. It’s as if she carries a special child inside her.

Our coffee, she passes the table, makes a nod, coming she says. It’s lunchtime, the busy period, but she doesn’t mind, there are other young girls like her, who are not that lucky. One of them dances the tables, and smiles at leering men all day, it’s a job, provides shelter, things can get worse.

She fills the cups, makes for the two men, sorry she says, setting  down the two cups. His jacket slides to the side, as if he is reaching for something, she spots the handle of a gun, law enforcement he says, sorry if I upset you, she smiles nervously. He nods. He wears a brown belt, he fingers the clasp, a sign, they are on my side, she sighs…..


A New World

Can you imagine it, it begins with your thought, then the start of the imagining, you start today, something new is happening. The Spirit is tired, shopping, what’s new, then you see the faces, so many out buying gifts for another, how often can we say that about ourselves, we are all really giving, we just don’t get enough opportunities to show it.

She is shy, her feelings are in a shroud, wrapped around her, she protects them the way a mother minds her new born, priceless, little does she know, that one day into the future, she will watch baby take off in a car, driven by someone else who wants to love her too. there will be fretting, the stomach will contract, anxiety will persist till baby returns.

Then the Promise of Eternity, the word of Jesus, a time will come, there will be signs for all to see, there will be changes, dramatic too, stuff you heard of, but mostly ignore, it’s been a long time coming. The New world, what will it be, will their be controversy, how will we fare, what will our purpose be, how does your Spiritual guide describe it.

Feeling good, healthy, friends who you can depend upon, no fear of violence, being happy within. It sounds simple to write, but the world we create starts within us, amen.

save our environment….

It’s a common topic, the support structure of all life is in trouble, and there are no mirrors, we are in it all of us, a band of human beings, save our environment, the stars in the sky are falling, the movements of the stars noted for years, save our environment, the call is coming fast and hard, collectively is there anything we can do.

He heaps a small mound of crystal powder on the table, while his eyes follow her swinging hips as she heads for the toilet, a change of underwear, so he imagines. He can fill the gap that cuts out the rest of the world, blind you mentally till there is nothing else to do. have another one of these, he acts as if he is the king, they get the hit they forget and comeback.

save our environment, we need all the ideas we can gather, the seriousness of the situation is downplayed, the sensitive nature of the human being, if they knew the truth they might panic entirely. In far off locations some are building spaceships, preparing for the worst, but they are still trying to save the environment.

Solomon sighed, the positive intervention of God Most High, had much to do with love. Saving our environment and being close to God went hand in hand he reckoned.

The Lonely Parent

tired overworked and emotionally alone, she comes home, soon she is medicated and out for the night, anything to escape the dreariness and relentless pursuit of life, she has a baby sitter, routine, TV remote TV remote TV remote supper bed and More TV, it’s all routine, children lie awake among this routine, no stories to stir their hearts and move their minds, they lie there wondering often in fear, what condition will she arrive back in, who will be with her when she comes in the door. hours fly by her spirits high, she stumbles across tables smashing glass misses her eyes, she falls into the arms of a new lover,  can’t walk without assistance, he helps her into the taxi, pats her as she flops by his side, she’s at his home or crib, crib sounds snazy doesn’t it, well it can also be hell, get it, he undress’s and relieves his pornographic mind, twisted and tormented by so many of those images we all pretend to ignore, like those shops for adults that children keep on passing by, she lies there comatose her snoring is hard to ignore, would wake a train from sleep the depth of its gassy high, she’s home again by 8, in time to wake them all up, she argues with herself as the taxi drives awhile, her mind searing glad to be alive, she can’t remember his name did she ask him,  she’s not sure she just lets it all roll by, she is home now, drops the children to school, see you in the evening she mumbles as she says good bye…they troop into school, a new day, tired and looking forward at the same time, wondering what it’s like for all the other children, and the tears they keep hidden inside…well God Most High hears every call, and…well it’s been said for years,  who am i to advise, i’m not that lonely parent, or the pressure so many are under..not me not me not me not me…