Radical Hope

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Kathy Moore has fallen into a bad habit of reading the news every morning instead of poetry. This has caused despair to creep into her writing. This year she vows to begin each day searching for the light and getting some words on the page to reflect that. She will breathe new life into the poetry project she began long ago. #writingonair

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Waiting for Rain

We wake this morning

to a gray uncertainty

the mountain that we love,

our devil mountain,

has disappeared

obliterated by ashes falling

from a firestorm

one hundred miles away

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Fallen Rain

What’s the name of that strange awareness

when you come across a new word

and then it appears everywhere?



is a word I hadn’t heard before

at least I don’t remember it – yet here it was today

appearing twice within the space of a few pages


Petrichor, the earthly scent

when rain falls upon dry ground



from the Greek words petra,

meaning stone, and ichor,

the fluid like blood in the veins of gods


Was Trudeau thinking about that, as he stood somber in the rain

Recalling rain that wasn’t rain, but bullets –

Bullets raining down while the blood of the fallen flowed


(found poem sourced from ‘Wet Ink’ by Amy Goldwasser and ‘Transubstantiation’ by Susan Firer in New Yorker magazine, November 12, 2018 and Justin Trudeau speaking at World War I commemoration, Aisne-Marne American Cemetery, November 10, 2018.)

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A Bullet for a Stone

He said we shoot at babies hurling rocks

A bullet for a stone

A show of strength, he bellowed

Against a sea of brown


I ask you to examine

the truth inside the lies

Who are the weak and desperate here?

Who are those lost, unrepentant souls?


While he exchanged our shared humanity

for manufactured fear

our voices rose in protest

but we could not stanch the blood

flowing in darkness


Today is a new day

We’ve been granted an extra hour

to pray in solidarity and in love

Tuesday we let the light back in

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Museum of Tolerance Reflection: The Morning After

The past two days were filled with amazing connections, insights, and impressions. I’m hyper focused right now on coincidence.

  • Jon borrowed a book off my shelf to read on the plane. A collection of sports stories. Second story in the book was a Holocaust story about Kristallnacht, Hitler, and Max Schmeling – the German boxer defeated by Joe Louis. An hour after we got to the Museum, Jon saw this display:IMG_1043
  • Later, ninety-four year old Holocaust survivor, Renee Firestone, riveted our group with the story of Hitler’s rise to power, her family’s persecution in the concentration camps, and her incredible reunion with her brother after the war when they miraculously ended up in the same place at the same time.IMG_1030
  • On the plane home, our flight attendant, Andy, gave a shout out to all the teachers on the plane. Then as we were coming in for a landing, he personalized it – IMG_1060thanking his favorite teacher ever, Mrs. Ann-Marie Walters. She was his teacher years ago when he was in high school.

Three seemingly coincidental experiences I witnessed over several hours. Maybe inconsequential. But I can’t help thinking there’s a message here. And it may be as simple as this: We are called on to pay attention. To share stories. To bear witness. To acknowledge the invisible threads that connect us all. To be open to the miraculous and the ordinary. To be ever thankful, ever present, ever alive in hope and wonder.

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