Historically, most poets have been men. But, few men are poets.

   Men honor softness in women. Yet, only a small number admit to honoring it in themselves.

   As a former football player, trial lawyer, healthcare CEO & father I have fitted the role of "typical" male. I never tell most male friends that beyond the end zone I love soft rain & enjoy stroking rose petals. Why trigger their disdain?  

   Early Jewish clerics (all men, of course) even hardened God's name by subtracting the vowels so that "God" became the unpronounceable YHWH. The gentler spirits among them inserted softer letters to yield "Yahweh."

   Men start wars. Men commit the crimes I used to prosecute. But, for men like me the television news from Syrian deserts & Chicago streets needs Love's sweet embrace as well as tough intervention.

   Hostility's fist opens before healing lace.

   The angry world needs Love's kindest face. 

   Mean is always present (the knife edge of the leaf.) Kind is shy & needs nudging to offer her hands. Today's television violence needs God's gentlest fingers.

   Just now an oyster is handling a new pearl. A trio of dolphins dances in a flow of secrets. Fish breathe beneath the roof of the ocean. A caregiver cools a fevered brow. Larkspur blooms in a forest where generous lovers touch the soft in each other.

   New life inhales. Last life exhales. 

   Here is lace.

   Here is Yahweh's grace. 

   This is the news that matters.

-Erie Chapman

Photograph by Erie (2014)