I was sent to raise to raise the world,the whole earth to raiseI could not find wherethe base and the basis werethe base of the world to raiseIt broke and felland floated in space,in space where no raising can beAnd I after itaflame and burningburning to raise the world. 

  I am just a simple woman  From a small village in the Philippines  Where we have a market only twice a week:  Wednesdays and Saturdays.  I go there to buy vegetables,  And a few shrimps to cook with them,  Sometimes a bit of meat.  (I raise my own chickens  And they give me eggs too.)    I like to market:  I buy shrimps from my friend Lina -  Her husband is a fisherman.  I know the women who sell greens too,  And always stand chatting with them.  They usually have news from other towns.  I find out who is getting married   And whose baby has come.  And I return home feeling  That Life is full.    I wonder what it is like  To be a Jewish settler woman   And to go to the market in Hebron  With an Israeli soldier beside me  With a gun.  Could I enjoy a friendly chat?  Could I endure the hostile gaze,  The sullen thrust of merchandise for money?  Could there be any bargaining?  Would the exchange include friendly information?  Could I meet the vendor's eye?    I suppose I would get good prices that way  And surely spend less time.  But no woman wants to market like that  In a marketplace with ghosts of pain  Under armed escort  As a threat to all who go there.    Israeli women, Palestinian women:  Free them from politics, from ideologies,  So that they may enjoy marketing  Like normal women  And go home again  Feeling that life is full!  

  You featherskin man  Magpie, Koori  all your suffering is reflected in your face  sixteen years in prison  sixteen escapes.  You noticed early that   the only thing we alien invaders worship is Money -  so you robbed banks  to payback the insulting of all aboriginals  and Mother Earth.  That role of paying back was given to you by our people  you, featherskin man,  Magpie, Koori    Mother Earth, your mother, my mother, everyone's mother  was raped, destroyed by mines  now the air is bleeding  the soil is crying  plants, trees with cancer are sighing    You paid back your Mother Earth's suffering  Mother's blood  by stealing our money,  robbing banks,  You featherskin man, Magpie, Koori    Your weapon was wrong  Money lovers never learn  we are the hopeless tribe of the Earth  cruel and innocent  not knowing the real values of life.  Now your weapon is stronger - words, poems,  your pen is sharp  your weapon is strong.

   Wealth without work   pleasure without conscience   knowledge without character   commerce without morality   science without humanity   worship without sacrifice   politics without principles

 If a child lives with criticism,         He learns to condemn. If a child lives with hostility,         He learns to fight. If a child lives with ridicule,         He learns to be shy. If a child lives with shame,         He learns to feel guilty.  HOWEVER - If a child lives with tolerance,         He learns to be patient. If a child lives with encouragement,         He learns confidence. If a child lives with praise,         He learns to appreciate. If a child lives with fairness,         He learns justice. If a child lives with security,         He learns to have faith. If a child lives with approval,         He learns to like himself. If a child lives with acceptance and friendship,         He learns to find love in the world.

 It's swelling now like the seed before it sprouts [which] only moles mark.  Furtive as deer in shadows who cast eyes over brush, peace will gather until  that moment like a child bursting into a room. Flung doors, scattered dust until all is wind shot through with light.

Moonbeams lit the evening sky   Previously graced by sundrops      Waves crashed againt the velvet sand   Wind whistled its lullabye melody      My senses were alive that night   in awe     of beauty              and                perfection      The light of the moon brightened my eyes       Wind ran through my hair     gently caressing my face and arms   while waves whispered peace songs in my ear.      And the sand below my naked feet             warm as a sundrop             cool as a moonbeam   echoed my thoughts of Peace      Surrounded by beauty,    i am but a dewdrop   in this vast              canvas                     called                             creation.

He drew a circle and shut me outa renegade, a heretic, a thing to floutBut love and I had wit to winwe drew a circle that took him in.

I am a voice,   the voice of spilt blood     crying from the land.  The life is in the blood   and for years my life flowed in the veins of a young man.     My voice was heard through his voice,       and my life was his life.  Then our volcano erupted and for a series of numbing days   all human voices were silenced     amid the roar of the heavy guns,     the harsh clank of tank tracks,     the bone-jarring shudder of sonic booms,       as gladiators with million-dollar swords       killed each other high in the sky.  Then suddenly--suddenly   there was the swish of a rocket launcher--   a dirty yellow flash--   all hell roared The clanking of the great tracks stopped.   My young man staggered screaming from his inferno,   his body twitched and flopped in the sand  And I was spilt into the earth--   into the holy earth     of the Hold Land.  The battle moved on.   The wounded vehicles burned,     scorched,       and cooled.  The "meat wagons" carried the bodies away as   the chill of the desert night   settled on ridge and dune, And I stiffened and blackened in the sand.

 I want to kill you war and I don't know how and I don't know why all the people of the world don't join hands to kill you war - you the greatest killer of them all  The governors of the world go on feeding your fat belly with fresh soldiers and nuclear arms with blurring eyes they only know  how to hang  the murderers of the one or the two but not you - you the greatest murderer of them all  After the carnage the Priest said "we are all responsible." After the carnage the Sheikh said "we all remain brothers." After the carnage the Rabbi said  "we can stop it if we choose." The priest and the sheikh and the rabbi raise up their hands and look up to the sky  The 1997 peace marchers take hold of the slab of marble on which is enscribed "we want to live no