courage

by

When the Bell Rings

When the Bell Rings

I open my eyes and see

the greed of the self-proclaimed

righteous ones devouring

our children as if each nation

that becomes their prey then

provides a course for

the meal of those

praying to their god

over the feast for the

self-ordained conquerors

of the diversity of the world

And I close my eyes and see

the path to peace hauntingly

call to us through the voices

of the hunted ones

and through the memories

of the ghosts of the

past resisters who all wait

to see if we will step

onto the path they hoped for

and they forged or who

will remain frozen in silence

And the bell rings

and calls some to the meal

and some to prayer

 and some to awaken and

rise up in this sacred moment

and know that the endings for some

are the beginnings for others

 and the desire to overpower

can be answered by

the will to overcome

and the bell rings for you

—Chris Pepple © 2026

by

The March of Love and Hope

ON COURAGE AND LOVE—

MAGGIE’S VOICE

             Every Sunday the same group of women gathers in a small apartment on the ground floor of the complex to worship. Every Sunday they sing the same hymns.  Every Sunday they whisper the same prayer:

                        God feed our children—for they are hungry

                        God keep them safe—these times are rough

                        God give us strength on this journey—for we are tired

                        God keep us safe—these times are rough.

The worship service is a chance for these women to rest from the struggles of the week—a chance for them to be touched by a moment of peace.

            The worship service is especially important for Maggie.  Ever since she organized this women’s group, she has been under constant pressure. She’s recognized as “the woman who started all of this trouble.” Last week she had a rock thrown through her window. The week before that her youngest child had a bottle thrown at him on his way home from school. But Maggie is determined not to give up her fight.

            Today Maggie kneels by the board that the women use as an altar.  Her mind envisions what this world could be like. She imagines a time when no more children would die in the streets. She imagines a time when all people are treated with reverent respect. She ponders on what the world would be like if every day wasn’t a struggle for survival for so many people. But her mind is brought back to the realities of the moment by a call from one of the women.

            “Maggie, a newspaper reporter is here. Says he wants to do a story on you and that march you have planned on Sunday. He says you are really gonna stir up things if you really march all of the neighborhood kids into those churches on the north side of town.  He wants to be the first to interview you and print your story. “

            Maggie turned and answered them, “The time has come for a new world to be created.  It’s time for all that we see around us to fall to the ground.  And out of its remains our new world will bloom. And this new world will hold us all in a cradle of peace and love and wholeness.

            But for now, I am worried.  Should I tell God that I am tired of this journey that I began?  Should I call to the angels and tell them that I am turning away from our plans?”

            Maggie was interrupted by a voice from outside.  “Momma, look at me—I can do a cartwheel.”  And all of the children giggled. 

            Maggie gazed out the window and continued to speak. “These children just spoke to the future, not to me. They spoke to the world asking for a chance for laughter every day. They laughed for the new world to come. They laughed for me because the time has come for my laughter to be silenced.”

            She said this knowing the struggle that was to come.

            The reporter questioned her:  “Who are you really?  I have heard that you’re a strong woman and that you’re going to bring about big changes in this town.”

            Maggie turned to face him and said, “What else can I say while I’m still around?  Wish I could tell the whole world what I think, but the world wouldn’t listen. It closes its ears to the music—only hears its own humming as it keeps itself in motion. Wish the world could hear the song that I hear.”  And Maggie walked outside to play with the children.

            Neither the reporter nor the other women present truly understood what had just taken place until a week later when they were cleaning out Maggie’s apartment. Maggie had been killed by a stray bullet fired into the crowd during her march.

            One of the women found Maggie’s journal opened beside her bed. It read:  “I knew things were changing when that reporter came by. I knew that when more people began to hear my voice, then more people would want to silence my voice. But I had a choice, and I decided to speak for the laughter of the children. I decided to call out to those who never watched as the laughter ended. 

            I decided to walk in the light of love, hoping to make a difference in this world.  This journey is worth the struggle to me.”

            Underneath this Maggie had written:

            “1 Corinthians 13:4-7: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” There’s still hope and love…

by

Every Now and Then

Every Now and Then

Every now and then I look ahead

and smile with joy at the hopes I see

where everyone in the land is living free

and hate is so faint that its power

has all but been erased

and I look at the present

and know that we are setting the pace

for equality to be reality

and for love to win

and I look back and see the faces

of those who cleared the path

for our today

where progress is real

and hope is embraced

and courage is clearly carrying us,

and I pause and say thank you

to Harvey Milk for the courage

to run and to serve and

to speak louder than those

wanting his voice to fade

and I see the steps of

Marsha Johnson and Sylvia Rivera

leading to the STAR house

and the hope that lived there

and I hear the voice of Barbara Gittings

who didn’t back down from the fight

to declare the worthiness of herself

and all whom she walked with

on the journey to demand

visibility and respect

and I read the words of Audre Lorde

who confronted injustices and disrespect

and was targeted for her race, her gender,

her class, and her sexuality

yet she persisted and wrote

to leave us all a legacy of

knowing better and doing better

and naming the wrong and claiming the hope

and I think of the teachings of Sue Sanders

and the strength of Lady Phyll

and know that we can

embrace their courage

and amplify their voices

and pick up the torch passed to us

so that what they began

will continue and

the path of love and hope

will change our tomorrows

and bring about the dreams

those before us could envision…

for the courage

for the hope

for the love

we honor the past

we stand strong today

and we hope for tomorrow

—Chris Pepple © 2023

by

OUT

Out

so that I can say 

my name 

with pride

Out

and standing before you

with my true self revealed

Out

following the inspiration 

of those who have 

daringly gone before me

and claimed their identity

despite the taunts

you tossed their way…

who didn’t let the fear

of your hate

block their way 

Out

 and here I am before you

inspired by my own courage

and loving me enough 

to live deliberately

Out

no longer hiding

who I am

and now claiming 

all parts of my identity

loud and free

and choosing 

to love the whole of me

Out

 and finally seeing

the beauty of my life…

Out of breath

from chasing dreams

Out of time 

for worrying 

about what your opinion means

Out of tears

from crying 

over your judgments 

and your fears

Out of patience

waiting for you

to understand 

love and truth

I am out

I am whole

I am loved

I am worthy

I AM OUT

–Chris Pepple © 2022

by

Fruits of My Labor

Fruits of My Labor

I remember the first time

I baptized my soul

with the juice from 

the freshly picked blackberry 

that covered my tongue 

when my teeth broke 

through its flesh

and pulled the druplets

away from the whole…

I followed the new awareness

of the delight of the fruit before me

with the sweetness of a plum 

grown on my own land

against all odds as I 

learned to nurture the soil

and tame the tangle of weeds

that tried to devour my progress

and frustrate my soul 

as I worked to bring life

to what was buried beneath 

an almost unforgiving neglect 

of what should have been 

cherished as home 

and could still be 

the holder of hope,

and I remembered the witness

of those who taught me

to survive and to love

the feel of dirt moving 

through my hands

as I worked to understand

what I would devour

and what would try 

to devour me…

—Chris Pepple ©2022

by

The Dance of the Young Spirits

The Dance of the Young Spirits

I sat outside and pondered

all the lives lost and the grief

of all who are left behind

and I listened to the songs of the birds

floating from tree limbs nearby—

Mother Earth inhales my worries and fears

and carries them on dandelion seeds

that will become the hope for new life 

tomorrow—but for today

She exhales the very winds that

touch my soul on these grief-filled days

when sorrow lays heavy in my heart,

but as daybreak nears, I glimpse

a teacher’s smile and outstretched hand

calling to students who are rising

from the wounds they should never

have had to experience, but now

I see their spirits rise among us

and dance before us with a beauty

that only the forever healed can show

and they encircle us and call us forth

to be the ones to join them in

this dance of the spirits

and to sing their names as we move

free from their dance and as we

face the sunrise without them

and decide how we will walk

into the future with the promise

we whispered to them that

no more would have to join their dance

before their time and no more

names would be written into the heart

of Mother Earth who grieves all who fall

into her arms by the hands of another…

Can you see them rising into the morning

and saying their own names as they

move into their forever without

finishing out their todays…

I hear their names and promise

I heard their pleas…

—Chris Pepple ©2022

by

To the Women

To the Women

To all the women

in every region of the world,

in every country,

in every city and small town,

I hold you in my thoughts today

and celebrate your identity

and stand with you

in a sisterhood

that knows no bounds…

To the Ukrainian women

holding children and pets

in underground bunkers

and to your women

fighting on the frontlines of war,

I honor you…

To the Russian women

protesting and begging

for an unjust war to end

and who long to see

your sons back home,

I honor you…

To the Polish women

offering homes and hope

and who leave supplies

within reach

and who rock babies

that are not yours

so that another mother

can rest and breathe,

I honor you…

To women who are transgender

and who long to be recognized

and must fight for your rights

and who lose those close to you

because they choose to walk away,

but who build chosen families anyway,

I honor you…

To women who have survived

violence in your homes

and fled from abuse from those

who were supposed to love you,

and to the women still

trapped in unsafe homes,

I honor you…

To the Black women fighting racism

and raising sons and daughters

in this broken world

where people judge you

by the color of your skin,

I honor you…

To the women around the world

in poverty who struggle every day

to find food and shelter,

clean water and clean clothes

and who carry worry with you,

I honor you…

To refugees seeking hope

and who crave safety

and who walk through the unknown

to recreate what is known,

I honor you…

To the Mama Bears

creating safe spaces for your children,

who know that love is love

and who know that all people

regardless of gender or sexual identity

are worthy, 

who build communities for nonbinary, transgender, 

lesbian, gay, bisexual, questioning family members

and who extend your love to others, 

I honor you… 

To all women who take a stand

for what is right and just,

who offer love and hope,

who mentor and guide,

who reach out and who teach,

to the women who climb ladders

and help others climb with you,

who give back

and bring change

and offer hope

and hugs and love,

who hold hands

and touch hearts,

I honor you…

I celebrate our

diverse faiths

and races

and faces,

I celebrate

our dreams

and our successes,

I see our struggles,

I honor our journeys,

I honor you.

–Chris Pepple ©2022

by

Worthy

Worthy

To the unseen trailblazers

who make their way

through uncharted territory

to break chains of abuse

that others claimed to never see,

who walk alone and hungry,

tired and broken at times,

you are worthy and courageous

and I see you

and I know your pain

of being shamed

when sharing truth,

of being outcast

and denied seats at tables

because you are blamed

and named and called untamed

and unworthy to be in the presence

of those who deem themselves better

and use their judgment as an excuse

to leave you alone and hungry and hurting

as you carry your children on your shoulders

to save them from the hate of the one

who wants you defeated and controlled,

but you rose up and spoke your “no”

and cleared a trail out of the horrors

of the life others said you deserved.

And by your strength,

a path has been cleared

that others can now see,

and a new hope

has risen in the souls

of those forgotten

in a world

that rests in comfort.

You are worthy,

wounded warrior

whose scars remind you

never to turn back.

One step more,

one step more,

one step more.

Chains are breaking.

Hope is rising.

One step more.

–Chris Pepple. ©2022

http://www.chrispepple.com