Prodigal Son
A a poem by Mike Shell of Quaker Universalist Fellowship, concerning questions left unanswered.
A a poem by Mike Shell of Quaker Universalist Fellowship, concerning questions left unanswered.
A couple years ago, I took my white family to see the Langston Hughes production Black Nativity in a small church in a historically Black neighborhood in Portland. The pews were packed, and the performance space overflowed into the audience. We were specifically invited to sing and stand and move as we felt led.
~
slippery memories drape
sheet-like over furniture,
create sticky mausoleums
out of half-chewed pencils
and worn-once onesies.
rosy rearview Past leeches
I have litigated divorce, paternity, custody, child support, and Order of Protection cases in Arizona for over three years. My work has largely been funded by a grant for crime victims’ rights.
I was living in the Mua Hills of Kenya in 1969, an area where the Kamba tribe is predominant. One day I was walking down the road and noticed a group of Maasai – the Kenyan tribe beloved by tourists – at the home of a local villager. Kamba and Maasai cultures are quite different from each other.
When I was a young man, I worked two years for Child Protective Services (CPS). It’s a strange job, going to people’s homes to talk to them about complaints that other people have made about how they treat their children.