Soul Box

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Stars could fade, darkness

like nothing, this world without

you as my heart light.

© Ali Grimshaw 2019

THE SOUL BOX PROJECT is a national community art project calling for the making of one hand-folded paper box to represent every person killed or injured by gunfire in the U.S. since 2014. Hundreds of thousands of these Boxes will be displayed together in massive art installations to reveal the staggering number of gunfire victims.

If you are near Portland, Oregon you can fold boxes on the second Wednesdays of the month from 4 – 6:30 pm at the THE CENTER FOR SPIRITUAL WELLBEING, 7100 SW HAMPTON ST SUITE 126 PORTLAND, OR 97223

Find out more at SoulBoxProject.org

“The point is, art never stopped a war and never got anybody a job. That was never its function. Art cannot change events. But it can change people… because people are changed by art – enriched, ennobled, encouraged – they then act in a way that may affect the course of events… by the way they vote, they behave, the way they think.”                      – Leonard Bernstein

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If Poets Ruled The World

 

If you brought poetry to your exhale

how would you breathe?

If you brought poetry to your cooking

how would it taste?

If you brought poetry to your singing

how would it sound?

If we brought poetry to the conversation

what would we hear?

Would we notice the moan of wind outside our arguments

that the water from the pipes is at a trickle, our absent neighbors

don’t stand in the front yard anymore, weeds thrive

overtaking the edible garden, while last year’s birdhouse

remains empty? A muffled fear

like cotton balls in our ears.

 

If I lived poetry

could I see the heart

underneath your skin?

 

© Alicia Grimshaw 2018

“Poetry, whether the writing itself is explicitly political or not, always seeks a better way to respond, to think, to live.” – E. Ce Miller, writer, journalist

Sharing this great quote from Moorezart

 

 

 

Beginning

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Wrap yourself in the miracle of this sunrise.

Open eyes

Open ears

Open heart

Cry for even one life that is not yet free

unable to see the sun.

 

A stranger arrives at the bus stop.

“How’s your morning going?”

Look into his eyes, instead of away

as he answers.

Ask him if he saw the sunrise.

 

© Alicia Grimshaw 2017

 

 

 

Bouncing Bullets

Slanderous words,

sharp and sticky abound.

Potentially murderous voices shoot out

yet ricochet off the innocent assemblage

surrounded by love, like bubble wrap.

A deadly collection of letters,

bouncing back to their owners.

While the souls remain

cloaked in truth,

“Those words aren’t us.”

No need for bulletproof vests to repel them.

Let them decay on the street

the street cleaner will dispose of them

before morning light.

© Ali Grimshaw