If I Never Sing Again

My voice is not everlasting…Color and Tambour quickly fading…

The cigarettes have made their mark…my sound is rough and dark…

Raw…like the heart that speaks through the music…that communicates in rubric…

So come on! Hold on! Sing this song! Before it’s faded and gone!

So come on! Rock on! Feel this strong! Before the music’s long gone!

Singing for the things unsaid, for all that’s gone and dead…

Scream for the dreams unfed…anorexic… that flew like balloons of lead…

Abandoning the lyrics I read…lifeless…Imma speak from my heart instead…

So come on! Hold on! Sing this song! Before it’s faded and gone!

So come on! Hold on! Feel this strong! Before the music’s long gone!

Imma let my feelings flow on tap…the gift without the wrap…’fore I disappear off the map…

Off the radar…the message in Morris Code taps…translation under wraps…face hidden by a Sox cap…

Invisible…but to my words they clap…caught in the trap…speakin my peace ‘fore they bust a capp…

So come on! Hold on! Sing this song! Before it’s faded and gone!

So come on! Hold on! Feel this strong! Before the music’s long gone!

Capp bust right in the back…right in the brain…cracked…in the cerebrum—a smack…don’t talk back…

I spit fact…you can’t get me off track…so give it up…just drop this little act…I got you pinned like a tack…

Truth breakin your spineless back…strung up on the rack…there’s only one way Imma cut you slack…

Just come on! Hold on! Sing this song! Before it’s faded and gone!

So come on! Hold on! Feel this strong! Before the music’s long gone!

Back off…back down…retreat to your little corner…run back to your little friend and forewarn her…

Tell her that the puma’s out of her cage…and if disturbed…she’s gonna strike back with blind rage…

Time may silence the jaguar’s voice…but for now…this cat is silent by choice…listening to her song sung in rejoice…

So come on! Hold on! Sing this song! Before it’s faded and gone!

So come on! Hold on! Feel this strong! Before the music’s long gone!

Before--I no more--sing my own song.

(c) The Steel Winged Butterfly, 2009

That Morn' in September

Remember, forever the 11^th of September.  For it is a day when for our liberty, the ultimate price was paid by the heroes borne of fire, right beneath Lady Liberty’s gaze.

Do you remember that morn in September,

When heroes were honed in harrowing ember?

Does your heart pound, with the strength that was found,

In the blood of the patriots that hallowed this ground?

When the battle hymn was sung, though vict’ry h‘d not been won,

After the darkness and despair did you join in the defiant dawn?

I remember the day the towers fell, 

When fire rained down and the terror effused from hell.

I remember the day when from bended knees, we, the brave, made our glorious stand,

When all the children of liberty bore freedom’s banner in hand,

When nary a street corner nor memorial mourner did not fly Old Glory’s high command.

As the moon rises on the eve of this sacred remembrance,

Let us honor those who died with great love, gratitude, and patriotic reverence.

Let us be inspired by those sanctified in fire, to respond with calm, unwavering, strength in the face of all situations—no matter how dire.

Let us rest in the knowledge that no matter the challenge, when confronted by evil our grace will not yield…and with steady hand and chivalrous heart, our might, with justice, we will wield.

And may forever we remember that morn in September, and from its ashes let the identity that was forged, to the future be rendered.  For it was for the futures of the children of our children that the present generations, have with their lives, so nobly tendered.

Remember, forever the 11^th of September.  For it is a day when for our liberty, the ultimate price was paid by the heroes borne of fire, right beneath Lady Liberty’s gaze.

Prayer Cycle: Compassion/Prayer of St. Francis

The Prayer Cycle
Part I: Compassion/Prayer of St. Francis

I am nothing without the purpose that guides my heart. 
The work of my hands accomplishes nothing if it does not build Your kingdom. 
The words from my mouth are empty if they do not inspire the best in others. 
My mind is idle if it is not focused on Your work. 
My feet are lost within the sands if they are not guided into Your service.

Make me an instrument of Your peace.

Through the love of those around me I have come to know Your nature.  And though there be the ever-present and outspoken Thomas in my mind, through compassion I seek to know You.  It is through this compassionate awareness of others that I have come to a point in life where I have seen and experienced many things that trouble me.  I am in a place where I am sensitive enough to know that some of the things I see are wrong yet I lack the wisdom and grace to articulate their exact nature while showing the same compassion towards the instigators as the victims.  Moreover, I lack the enlightened vision to mend all that is broken...including myself.

So, with humility, I ask that You make me an instrument of Your peace…

I don’t ask that You set my path in a certain direction.  I only ask for the wisdom to know, speak, and act upon the truths You have placed in my heart.

Finding Faith Part II: The Stillness

I find myself continually looking for guidance. I am a human, with full awareness of my humanity—my frailty—my hubris—but also of my redeeming qualities, and the potential growth that stems from them. I am a big cat that sometimes forgets that to show one's true strength, the action is far more important than the growl. Be quiet, be prepared, be contemplative, and be ready—for all that it is in your path to do. I have the ability to observe, synthesize, and learn from the greatest of teachers—my loving mother—the earth and stability beneath my feet. It is from the womb from whence I came that I have come to learn this lesson.

When an Autumn leaf falls upon the surface of a still lake, ripples extend and alert of its presence. Nature feels and experiences even the most delicate of disturbances. But given enough time, the ripples fade and the leaf is embraced by the water-gracefully borne upon its back and held afloat.

This is how the still mind behaves. It is not idle. It bears with gentility—embracing the presence—carrying the source of its unrest to the place where it too will finally be at rest. The still mind feels and experiences all, possessing the strength and energy to absorb disturbance and let it harmlessly disperse; because the still mind is a medium-a filter-the bow of a swift boat. It is static while all else flows around, through, and over it; cutting through the motion like the sharp katana blade.

To be still is to be stationary—not idle—for great strength is required to remain still while in the midst of the raging storm.

Make me as the lake.

No matter the ferocity of the storm nor the strength of the disturbance, eventually, through much effort, it regains the stillness—allowing the turbid and tumultuous nature of its waves to tire themselves out and obey the natural law of peace. No stone thrown can skip across its surfaces for eternity. Eventually, it too will sink beneath the surface—elevating the water when it too finally rests. Even the stream that feeds the lake only does so to keep the water fresh and to relieve the pressure. The lake is still but fed through motion. It is the nature of the lake to maintain the balance.

So may it also be my nature.

Heroes with Handbags

This is for all the ladies, who lend helping hands without taking—who carry purses full of everything from candies, to make-up, and miracles in the making.

This is for all my sisters reaching for their dreams, and for the countless mothers who gave theirs up or who put theirs on hold to give their daughters wings…

This is for all the grandmothers teaching us the valuable things—by speaking from experience and sometimes by simply loving…and listening.


Heroes with handbags walking with grace, kindly nature and common appearance disguising scarlet capes…hero with the handbag, stand and show your face…make no mistake—there’s much power beneath the perfume and lace.


Fighting everything from pantyhose to a drippy nose…mending a broken heart with knowledge impart…all the while pushing a shopping cart…

Giving life, showing love, and causing laughter while paying bills, working, and learning—succeeding while having so many others to look after…

With quiet strength and subtle power—acting with courage and strength— living with passion and fire, those with handbags are the heroes I admire.


Heroes with handbags acting without fame or trace, healing the world’s ills with a warm embrace…hero with the handbag you have formed our base—the place from which my dreams I’ll chase…in my heart, there’ll always be a place…


For my Heroes with Handbags and a kindly face.

The Wing Maker's Mantra

We are the wing makers,
The craftswomen of freedom, the fashioners of wisdom.
We are the peacemakers,
The lovers of what makes us stand alone and of all that makes us ONE.

We are the wing makers,
of all different shapes, sizes, and kinds.
We are the shape-shifters,
Becoming ONE by gazing through our sisters' eyes.

We are the wing makers,
The protectors of diversity, and the light in adversity.
We are the brickmakers,
The modelers of humanity, designers of a new mentality.

We are the wing makers,
Creating a world that's more aware, and giving wings to take us there.
We are the star hangers,
The Answer to an uttered prayer, doers of what others do not dare.

We are the wing makers,
The givers of inspiration, we are teachers by vocation.
We are the movers and shakers,
The setters of aspirations, with bonds stronger than blood relations.

We are the wing makers,
The embodiment and faces of the ONEness of human races.
We are the wing makers,
And the wing bearers, the wearers of the light upon our wings and faces.

We are the wing makers,
Each ONE a caregiver and healer.
We are the wing makers,
We see the inner butterfly and reveal her.

We are the wing makers,
We won't stop until it's done
(And we won't stop 'till everyONEs got some)

We are the wing makers,
Many united in this purpose so strong, living and loving as ONE.

We are the wing makers, the creators of this world of ONE.

Psalm 23

At the end of all days, the "sky’s gonna break" and all of heaven and earth’s gonna quake because I love you.  There won’t be a chain that’s forged to restrain—no wall or boundary to retain my love from you.  No chasm or rift in space or time, no matter the age of body and mind, I will find you because I love you.

As is witnessed by the Holy Ghost, no earthly army nor heavenly host can cleave in two, this one heart that is me and you.

This isn’t some amorous Shakespearean line.  This love isn’t the kind that comes a dozen a dime.  That’s not how I love you.

It’s a simple love, but it’s pure and deep and is stronger than the greatest castle’s keep.  It will safe-guard you.  So when the doubt of evening comes and fear’s grasped you amongst its throngs, let nothing distress you because I love you.  Let no evil plight, in darkness or light, set your faith and feet to frightful flight because I am with you.

As long as on me you hold your gaze, you shall never lose your way because I will guide you.  Along the roads and pathways of life, you will find my kindness and mercy is rife.  Through the Jordan’s waters you’ve earned this right and though the minions of death may play their fife, I will not abandon you in strife…

For I am with you—because I love you.