A new poem/meditation of mine, “May Our Voices Be,” is now published on the Unitarian Universalist Association’s WorshipWeb site. Check it out here!
You matter. There is no one like you; never will be again, from the birth of the earth to its outermost end. You — an eager shout, a sacred “Yes!” that moves your flesh, your bone, your breath. You — she, he, ze, they, you are whole and okay, gracefully teaching your truth and your way. You cannot be forgotten. We cherish you so. Your voice and your hands can do more than you know. You see old things anew. You turn them and test them. Your wonder exhausts our old words to express them. You speak and lay bare all you dig up and hold aloft from the dust of conventions grown cold. You up-end every rock and pursue every glimmer and give a new name to each sparkle and shimmer. You chart out new paths, go beyond our horizons: new friendships, new stories, your hope always rising. You, welcome and wanted, whatever your skin, wherever the neighborhood you were born in. You play across fences that keep us divided. Old walls become weak where your love is ignited. You call us to kindness and questions, reminding: the life of our living is found in the finding. You! There is no one like you; never will be again, from the birth of the earth to its outermost end. You matter. You do. We’ll keep learning with you. Now stand on our shoulders. See what you can do.
First published on www.matthewsrosin.com and YouTube, 2017.
Muscles quiver under paper in a fiber grave. Arms, interlocking, press into the day. Balance finds its gravity only through points of three. This is our only saving grace. The weight of paper is piling up. I cannot find another face. Beneath the weight of paper, we will build a home, with walls that hold fast to the sound of words we cannot know. Column A and Column B: never what they claim to be. This is our moment's saving grace. The weight of paper is piling up. I cannot find another face.
Published as lyrics for GODHEADSCOPE’s A City Out Of Sight LP, 2007.
Do not speak falsely. Brutal honesty: far better a crime than your silence denies. Your tongue presses the bottom of your mouth. Words wait. Tongues are cut out. Tongues rise high; lash the ground. Place your tongue atop the screaming mound.
Published as lyrics for GODHEADSCOPE’s Patience EP, 2011.
Hatred is a dead body handcuffed to my wrist. I drag it behind me, uphill and down. The face which smears over rocks and concrete is the same as the one I see in the mirror. The fingers which cut grooves into the soil bear my fingerprints; leave their traces. The wake I trail behind me slowly ceases to be red. The passenger sheds his skin. I grow still more hollow. Blank features pass away as my face grows ever harder. My back curves from the weight; the spine is bleached by sun. By the time the bones remaining detach and fall away, there will be nothing left; nothing left to save; but an empty shell dragging empty handcuffs behind.
Published as lyrics for Cindervoice’s Before the Turn LP, 2010.