We Send Hugs Over Wavelengths

We Send Hugs Over Wavelengths

We send hugs over wavelengths once only for
radio broadcasts. We have spread across the continent
like stuffed animals on a carousel. We live on the edges.
Yet this entire world was conceived in love,
brought into existence by passion,
and expands with the Spirit that breathes only mercy.

Some have heard it and are never the same.
Some have bruised their heads against the welding rods
and live with metal chips in their eyes. They may
scavenge for a grain of sanity, but seldom see the
romance of the ever-circling days. They would rather
pay back the culprits and keep score, regressing to times
before love came calling.

We send greetings through ionized air. We zoom from
living room to our children’s kitchens on holidays and
occasional afternoons. We would do it more often if
only we knew
the ions are packages of minute fireworks,
splashing each conversation with invisible sparklers.
Chrysanthemums fill the sky.

I can hear the Creator cry for those who batter souls
behind the walls. I can feel the tears for those who,
like Samson, take the time to capture 300 foxes
and set his enemies’ fields on fire.
I can hear the anguish over churches ejecting
all but the best and brightest, and leave those,
those with innocence and love, locked outside winter.
I no longer read the writings of those who claim
their inheritance before they have given away
everything
to follow the master of love.

We pick up our guitars, our lutes, our trumpets and our
flutes,
and tune them to cosmic 440. We play them until no
one is left out in the cold.