Poetry

Before the Monsoon 
Written by Eleanor Dart
Reviewed by Natalie Ramsland

Psalm 46:10

Be still and know that I am.
That I am here.
That I am sacred.
That I am what you carry.
That I am. . . Water.
Holy Water.

Desert Waters

The Bellagio casino glimmers
above a round blue lake.
Outside the Tropicana
waterfalls pour over fake rocks.

All night under the desert moon
the profligate water splashes,
sparkling like silver coins.

Four hundred miles south
three braceros lie down to die
beside empty plastic bottles.

It’s All A Mystery
I look around
It’s all confusion
different stories from all directions
what can anyone believe
turning in circles
dizzy and lost in a fog
I can never see through it
to the truth that is just on the other side
can anyone tell me what is what

        I am a girl of many things;
        I am a girl of sorrows;
        I am a girl of laughs,
        but most of all, I am a girl of curiosity.

I am curious of the world around me, of the world I live in.
I wonder how my younger brother will be when he grows up;

“I don’t want to think about that stuff and I’m not going to write about it either.” John grabbed his backpack and stalked out the door.  I had pushed too hard. It had happened in a moment, and he was gone.

First Day School

We gather the children,
the tender and shy, the mischievous,
lead them to a jagged beach to find
their treasures of stillness
while their own parents settle into
the meetinghouse to gather
Light. We let the children wander
between piers, time dissolving
into moistness. One boy with purple