Welcome

 

Being Hueman

Acknowledging the value of all God's Creation, the beauty
of diversity, and the possibilities of embracing love,
compassion and justice as a way of
life and community. This is being hueman.

Poetry & Writing by Greg Powell

The Storm, a poem of global concern by Greg Powell
Storm

The storm is coming
The storm is here
No time for trifling
Not time for fear
The mystic revelation
The mystic demonstration
Is love
Love live love

The imps are winning
The imps are bold
Never satisfied
With what they stole
The mystic revelation
The mystic demonstration
Is love
Love live love

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Greg Powell dedicates Mother's Day poem to Joetta Powell
Mother's Day in Summer's Snow

And in the years since you been gone
It’s come to be alright, after a awhile
Your love alive in memories
Like dandelions sprinkling seed white
As cotton, or summer snowflakes
My boyhood legs, arms reaching for sky
Would chase when you let me out to play

I have known nothing but love and its power
Knowledge framed by you, from womb to
Now: the love I live for; radical compassionate
Impulse to help somebody somewhere somehow
Maybe even everybody, somewhere, somehow
To your God’s glory, and response to your

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Greg Powell finds a meditation on the gift of the Resurrection in a South Side Fish Market
Fish Market Easter Revelation

I still make the trek here because I noticed
that in a relatively small space surrounded by
a virtual aquarium of fish and sea creatures of
every description in buckets of ice, the place
never smells like fish. At least not the odor I
smell when I walk by the seafood counter at my
neighborhood high end grocer.  The one they
nickname “Whole Check”. But mostly I come
for the people. The tickets have gotten confused
somehow, and my number keeps getting missed.
One man yells “73”. Another yells “21”.
Confusion reigns.

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Broken Legacy

Do the bruised brass wailing
exclamation scar of history/
suffocating in shadows of projects
spread like southern crosses
burning/ fall futilely
on depressed ears
of spiritually deaf/ Do
harsh sharp horn shouting preachments
sustain chanted sermons to
empty pews/Do anyone
still
listen
to John
Coltrane

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