Annaruiz's blog

I don't know how to give you peace
how to heal your wounds, make your
scars disappear,

I don't know how to ride the wild wind today,
form the sun from this blood-wet clay I hold
in my hands,

O Israel!
O Palestine!

You were radiant then, in your olive groves--
your loaves of bread broken in friendship
your fish bountiful, unspared

I don't know how to carry a cross read more »


Most of us belong to that other group,
the dreamless wanderers,
converging under protest songs and patriot games,
fevers blistering tongues,

to the four corners of the earth,
we are genderless misfits
whose only earthly prize
is the will to speak of the truth,
"To thine own self be true"
our mantra,

Shakespearean players
preach to an empty choir, read more »


Esmeralda was dancing in the streets
while the King of Fools was being crowned
Hugo was hunched over
a flickering candlelight
like a grotesque shadow,
goose quill in hand …
in the meantime in a far-and-away land
once upon a time
a poet reads that the nearly dead can never walk
further than an imaginary line crossing over
and under
every house of worship, read more »


From where the circle forms
the mouth is agape
with Om

We bring nothing
to this theater
but a unique configuration
of molecules and atoms
depths of perception
glossaries of ambivalence
on the bare backs of denial,
rushing head first into
and feet first
into our graves

dust to dust
ashes to ashes

we leave all that green
behind read more »


The physician wore moonlight
on straight broad shoulders
well into the night,
his black mare
a flaming star,

Once upon a time
they stopped for
a cool sip
near the valley foretold
in his youthful dreams:
Sweet River Of The Willow tree,

was fast asleep,
spreading like wildfire
the scent of gardenia and
lotus blossom, the touch of
mimosa falling from her read more »

In honour of the man and his mission, this the 40th year anniversary of his assassination.

On Martin Luther King Day

When all the marchers shall have lost their way
and the Way shall not have been forgotten
and the colour of skin, the slant of eye,
mere shadows that block the great internal Sun,
then peace will no longer be purchased
in salt or oil, read more »

There is a Red Book

There is a red book lying on my floor
rows of crimson-robed monks
sitting in meditation
on its cover...
there are rows of soldiers
marching to a different drum,

the monks are falling in Tibet and Myanmar,
the soldiers in Israel and Iraq,

there are voices of despair, hope and
innocence in rows of graves where all colours read more »

Benazir Bhutto

Benazir Bhutto was assassinated today
she expired at 6:16
I have no poetry for you,
words have no meaning
and the poet is gone
absent from all reason,
all choked up
with nothing to say.


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