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The Collected Poetry of Jason Espada , Volume II - from 2006 and 2007
Contents page
1. My heart is 1
2. Their drunkenness makes me sober 3
3. Tracing the roots 5
4. How many times have I declared victory 7
5. During the day I strain and struggle 9
6. I put signs along the lonely road 10
7. There’s one piece of cake left 11
8. You tell me when I should dance 12
9. What voices light up the world 13
10. The need to write 14
11. They call me a dangerous person 15
12. Calling to the shadows 17
13. Remembering a dance 19
14. You know the feeling 21
15. ok ok 23
16. Case One 25
Contents page
17. The man dragging his foot 27
18. Akin to all that soars 31
19. What to make of this day? 33
20. and again I know 35
21. Did you go outside today? 36
22. Because all I hear is silence 38
23. Winter dreams 47
24. all the voices you’re born with 50
25. Help them first 62
26. Why don’t we 65
1
My heart is
busted open and is spilling light everywhere
on thinking how many people are misled by false teachersthemselves ignorant
Something in me started to wail, and will never stopcrying like a parent who’s lost a childlike someone whose dearest has been taken from them
and in the same instant I see in methere is one who dances and clapsand has left his homeand who couldn’t begin to tell how to ever get back –he’s not looking for return
and he sings out a full throated crazy song, full of pain and whim and logic and grace
anyone lacking a radical solidarity with the pooris worse off than dead – they are death itselfwithering crops or making the earth itself recoil
I sing, I dance, I mourn – what else can I do?
It goes on like this with me all the time, all the time I tell youand usually I swallow verses such as these(with no ears to listen – what’s the use? I know myself)but this much fell out, so here it is –
a sanity making incantationa joy in these netherworldslike some eternal sealburning through the mist - armies that poseas real and lasting,
2
but that fade as my honeyed laughter dawns
Sing:
O Princes and Empresses – don’t think yourselves less than this!Every lie about you, one day will have to be seen throughla la laHark! Why not today? Why not now?Even if we’ve been in the wrong forever, now’s a door, eh? waddya say?
I bribe, I cajole, I threaten, I lie, I lure, I seduce, I leave trails of whatever gems people regard
I talk to children like they are adultsknowing they understand full welland I talk to those who appear to be adultslike they are in the first grade(we’re none of us that far along)knowing they understand tooand are gratefuland take the step that is in front of them
To the extent even of the horizon I set a mealand play and sing to you sweetly a chorus to join inWhat else can I do?
I turned myself upside down and shookand am surprised (surprised still) at what we can do together
3
Their drunkenness makes me sobertheir sleep – so shocking!, makes me wake up
Their violence makes me gentle, as an innocent childand their greed makes me generous –the more they take and demandhoardmore than they could spend in a thousand lifetimes –the more I give whole worlds away, light-filled, boundless
I see people weaving their shells around themand it sets me high over the mountainThis conversation between us, you see, it goes on all day long
Barriers being built up against feared enemies:I heft a sandbag toojoin in the laborsbut I am inside alreadyI mean, I understand labor, but at some point, come on!
Gluttons shame me into not eatingand the adults-in-body-onlytrapped in adolescent gamesthey age me centuries at a time
all the clashing – gnarled strandsbrutality I am taunted with everydaymakes of me symphonies
I don’t know why it is this way, I swear
my crying and laughter have become this one soundmoving in waves
4
pausing
silencesblack, forgetting restand I wake uponwhatever place along the roadI’d fallen the night beforeand as soon as my eyes openI take handfuls of the bracing messages of the dayand wake myself with themso I can continue threading these worlds
We are one, don’t you see?If you pinch me, I’ll kiss your cheek
in me your ruinsare already born again as palaces,pleasure gardens, places of beauty, comfort and ease
5
Tracing the roots – wisdom and compassion
There is only one evil that is ignorance
how can we feel angerat insentience, such as a rock or a log?
What else except a dawn is called for?
And with what eyes do we see?What eyes are not yet opened?
A human being can live and die without ever opening their eyesthe eyes of the spirit or the soul –To some these are like the words of a forgotten language –nothing stirs
Who can enter these worlds and make a way outwhere there was none before?Compared to this, all we value recedes
How can we be angry with what is just ignorance?
But removed from this, not tracing the roots exactlywe strike or wish to destroythere is no end –no endexcept for seeing the roots
6
and streams of forgiveness flowing everywhere
And so this world calls to you you who see through appearancesWhat other resolve can there be?
You few that are freeThis world endlessly calls to you
All the good you would do, if you will itit will be doneand the world calls
All these, our familymen, young men, women, children, young childrennow, and from the futurethey reach to youthey call to you
‘Turn the wheel’‘Turn the mighty wheel’
7
How many times have I declared victoryonly to be shot down from behind as I raised my flag on some mountaintop?
The rhythm goes this way –before I can say it, any victory is goneDon’t know if it’s thatpride blinds, or if I call these interferers on myselfraise them snarling from the ground myselfAs soon as I say it, or only think it, I see the gathering armies
Taking the luxury of resting, I invite my own fall –a story the same on every page of the bookthat I don’t seem to tire of writingand I’m astonished at my endless stubborn rut
Who is that revolutionary that forbids us to say his name?or speak, except covertly, of his mission?his never-yielding natureto throw off the dictatorship of the senses,end the cruel tyranny of attachment, and all the histories of pain, to in fact cut through every bond –only the heavy swift sword remaining
Anything less and we need more graces upon usto crest that hill, to bite through
O lifetimes and lifetimes, where have you gone?Oppression – what do you promise, really?Behind what you show the worldin exchange for our precious consent?
This one gospel wailrises out of times, cultures, peoples“how long, o lord?” how long?Where will it end, if not now?
8
And you also will speak of thisto every passing strangerto every green childdown every blackened corridorthrough rusted prison walls
melted into the colors of the world,you will speak of freedomand of no fear
words to birth anotherthe gift that burns away everything that is less than freedominside, outside
jaw setlook, steady, intentthat is already seeing and joythough joy be sometimes refused
two feet on the ground –O make me like that mountain!
9
During the day I strain and struggle and dig a holeand in the unseeing pitch of night I fill it again
During the day I walk over difficult groundtowards my destination, and at night I re-trace my stepsI go back
I singLet it not all be undone!
10
I put signs along the lonely roadbuild huts for travelers passing throughclear the path of dangerous animals
I rain when rain is neededand shine to make life break outfor us all to enjoy
I’m a clue, tantalizingand a big brick wallI’m hauling trashand the once in a while kind of fire that opens seeds
It’s always all I can dochanging shapevoice, color
Company on your arm when that’s what’s neededto keep this heart from breakingso the next step can be taken, and the rest
I know where the road leadsand the visions that appear in dreams
There is great joy and sadness together in what I doand as long as it’s neededI wouldn’t have it any other way
11
There is one piece of cake left -let the other person have ittaste the joy of thatknow that happinessbe strengthened by that
work-let others resttaste the joy of thatthe strength that arises when needed
My children sleepI rise earlyit’s their life I’m living nowa future that will be there for thembread that will be the light in their eyesand their learning
I grow this slow medicineso that times of illness will be shorteror so that they will not happen at allchasing shadowsclearing the airs
gifts will appear in their own timebecause of this devotionof this I am sure
a broader lifeand a reminder to all others oftheir innate treasures
this transient, insubstantial, ephemeralbeautythe human shoutthat is lovehumanity’s true name -this is the reason for our smile
12
You tell mewhen I should danceand when I should sit in mourning clothes
This world’s at play with meand somehow the deepening sadnessis reflected in the sky of my joyThese flavors mix and becomefood for a long journey
I’m beginning to understand the languages of the worldnot what is saidbut the sound and sudden feeling of itgoes straight to some understanding-center, some body alive and in dialogue with the world
I take up somehow these worlds I once held inmy handsthat are now less than nothingI can’t see them anymore, or feel their shape or textureI’ve forgotten their sound – all my clutching at them’s come to nothingand yet as the light around us, as spacious and airy as thought,as rooted as bread, a kind of giving continues
somehow without a table, wine is pouredan afternoon sun hangsdrawing out blisscrisp perfection illuminated
bread and songall we ever really needed
13
What voices light up the worldpraise songs that break shoots from hard seedchurn wastelandsand make heaven worlds visible to us all
What light from the eyesbreaks bonds
Solace given, making dancers of us all
What harmony adds flavor to our food
What spoken word lets us see color
A story is told to dispel ghostspassed down through generationsnever failingof pilgrims at dawnrealizing how great this moving streamOf their slowly hearing welcomes –this, their food, companionshipthis, what gives strength to their limbs
a page turns, and then anotherand brightness finds one more way into our lives
14
The need to write
That I may never want to be ridof sorrowcrushing lifeand making gems and small flowers appearon my ceilingand scattered on the sidewalks
I can’t see putting this on a business cardor on a resumeor on a plaque on your deskor being introducedas the death shoutcorpse raisinggiver of giftsor some such strange butappropriate title
How can you squeeze something like this into a bookor a calm reasonable conversation?I tell you, you can’t!
heaven help us it will always be this wayonce freelike a wave that’s broken wed to creation
15
They call me a dangerous person, and I can’t entirely disagreenot because I burn or bomb housessteal children or lie and make people crazynot like someI don’t block out the sunor act like weevils on crops
No, I’m quieter, mostly –They say I’m a danger becauseI’m a doorand I have a dream that won’t give up inside of mea world compared to which, what we see of this bright day’s a scuff mark
I speak even if I don’t mean to,it spills out
Little boy wearing a sailor’s cap, and not much elseonce in a while still claiming to be steering the shipinstead of the toy boat replica I’m sitting in
Hey, I’m just telling what is so
and it’s this reminding others that gets me in trouble‘s why I’m accused (not all unjustly, after all)when it leads to melting down idols,throwing mortgage deeds on the fire,elopements,and gardens flowing down the street after us
Sunlight is why I’m branded a fool and a troublemaker‘Innocent and Guilty!’, I plead, tunefully,
even if there is no paper to write on,I spell it outlike ancient hieroglyphs
16
with discardscommunicate in primitive waystapping and rhymingspeaking original language-songs that awaken their memoryand go on this wayfrom age to age
17
Calling to the shadows
I go gathering limbstwisted shoulders, faces, frozengo calling down barriersbarricaded roadspast disbelieftaking up all that is uglytrying to hide itself from the sunor that’s chasing innocence
Have you ever stopped and looked back?There are those who are chasing you!and who won’t stop ‘till you’re at the head of the tableand your roads to getting there are buried deepnow just a floor for the house
We know the summer delightpeach blissful running down our chinand sun so strong everything sighsbut there is another bud on the branchand we tellof being gathered upof beingthe original lost tribescorned, pitiedrepulsive even to ourselvesbut then taken upand given new breathlike the first breath of life on earth
Do you know alsothat life that is madeof all the decayed, burned,hardship
18
and then touched, and welcomeda song brought forthwe didn’t know we had in us to singcharred, a ruined papermade fresh, made right ,shadows and exilesmade to receive all the world
19
remembering a danceonce, long agoseen as if in a clear mirrorlaying flat on the kitchen table
remembering that summer afternoonhow they were all swept up by the musicas with one motion,the gleam in his friends eyes,the summer dresses, and perfume,the wine of it all
and legs that hadn’t worked for yearsmove againat once he’s up, shuffling aroundthe sagging wooden floor of his shack
and in the mountainswith nothing to eatboiling snow and cooking nettles for his family to eatto appease his children’s hunger and his wife’s fearsfather tells a storystirring the pot
with everyone gathered aroundand listening, pitchedhe tellsof feastsdrawing it out slowlydropping in twigs and grassthe shape and texture and weight of vegetablescarrot, squash, tomato, potato, onions, cabbage, peas
and spices – sweet, and hot, and little ones, very very hotso you’d break into a sweat
20
and he’d tell until they were all spellboundstomachs somehow filledand night after nightmountains were crossed like thislater, he’d remember ‘best damn nettle soup anyone’s ever had’
and one day, so sadI held her slender handsometimes cloud, sometimes the branch of a treewould keep me from seeingsometimes my own tearsbut she was constantlove that doesn’t rise and setsomehow all these years later, I remember her stilland that she somehow freed me from my fearsfreed me to walk through prison walls a free mansuch that nowthere’s no gift I give that doesn’t have something of her in it
21
You know the feelingwhen you’ve forgotten somethingand can’t remember what?
I leave the houseand then I know it –I know you’re not with meI feel itlike a coat I’ve forgotten to bring with me
I need to wrap you around meand hold you tight to meto keep me warmI need this so I don’t shiver,so my teeth don’t clatter
When will you come?When will you come?When will you finally be here?
I’m a poor man todaya beggarwith a house somewherebut wanderingaskingpleading with everyone to take me there
I’ve become a town where all people do is waitfor a train, a bus, a vision, a visitorthrough grey afternoons that stretch out into infinityit’s been so long no one even rememberswhen the guest was due to comewaiting’s all they know
almost everything else has been forgottensuch that
22
even if their long expected, long hoped for guestshould arrivesome of them at leastwill not be able to believe itand they’ll keep waiting forever
others though, some amazingly lucky few,will steal away from that sad crowdand find solitude with the Guesther hand alive in my ownand all the gifts that have been waitingin that moment, can be givennothing held back
Here’s how to turn a poor stale vinegar soupinto a summer feast on tables spreading for miles:loveand all the pastdisasters – even their memory painful –turn sweetall the fears – like nightmares that shake uscan become beauties all the imaginings – less than paper thin but like labyrinthsturned over and stirredin the kitchen alchemist’s pothe adds himself, and lo!, a song rises from the potfeeding all our family,all our guests, ho!
a song into the night –joy even the stones
and grass, houses, buildings,animalsjoin in celebrating
23
ok
we're just visitors for a whileon this sad earthsome few fortunate enough to go around trying to say the word joyto others
don't ask why it is sotoday's a fresh daytime to go out whilethe sun's still out and the skyso welcoming a bluenot like yesterdayall day cramped uptrying to dig myself out of the mountainrunning out to get food and then back
today's a day for walkingfor cooking something simple for our familyfor making steps and to forget and to leaving behindwhatever does not matchthe lives not yet livedthat we yearn for
today's a daya royal dayto make melodies out of whatever we are givenhint at the universes within this oneperfect, glorioustell secrets that enliven,winking, then disappear again
24
and
oh! just for one dayor for one houror for one minute evennot one iota overlooked!not one thing underestimated!
praise to the round bellyflat feetbaldingsquintinggap where a tooth used to behair at improvised angles
even wrong wordsmiracles!that we speak and hearand write and readitself is angelicand not less
only be not jadedand all is alive,wondrousworthy or our gratitude and devotionshow could it ever be any other way?
we all have a song in usand today's the day to be that
25
Case One – The World Honored One Invites You to Sup
Introduction
Here at the door you are invited to rest, and so the way opens. But if you are not of such a temper, don’t worry, you won’t be put down, you won’t be neglected. You are most welcome in this house.
Here we have medicine, and clothes; food for strength, and song to put color back in your cheeks, such that all can receive gifts, onward leading, and peace beyond compare.
Look!, our hands are open, and we ask nothing of you. Whatever you bring to the door, you are welcomed in.
Case
What is given, if you see it, you are free, at ease, already at table.But if you don’t get it, don’t worry, we’ll try something else.
Commentary
Any time is a good time, but how to say it? A kiss on both cheeks, or brushing the stray hair back from your eyes – tenderly gesture, and you’re less than a step away. But let’s not complicate. Leave your coats in the closet by the door, arm and arm to join with friends. With your arrival, you support us all! We crowd around, smiling – you’ve brought with you the most essential thing!
Verse
Warmth pervades everywhere, certainly
26
it’s the cause of our ongoing celebrationFriends, we’re not apart from the manifold wondersthat are happeningIf you sing a bit too loud, we’ll understand
Commentary
The gifts in your hands, how welcomed! We’ve been waiting. Nothing stirs without you, and now we’re in full swing!What is the ground of our smile and laughter? Our celebration?I’ll tell you – it’s just this glory, the jasmine, and eye-medicine of your walking among us.
Like tasting honey, we rise up in greeting after greeting.No mere memory this, or sleep, but full, with sighing, and secret food being shared. Coming from miles around, because of these long lines, it has to be this way. And so we can excuse excess, after all, if need be. Whether we should hang the tag ‘timely’ on it or not, I’ll leave for you to say.
Aah, friend, so good of you to be herethe name on every dish brought out
27
The man dragging his footseem from above(don’t ask me how!)traces something like calligraphy
there’s beauty in it, and morenot mere decoration, this,but a clear message for us all
In our hurry –our clipped – attention – deficitnot even half a word comes to our earand we shut the door,pushing him out with feigned politeness
but if we could hearstop running and relaxand become the arc of what is being saidthen surely we would findwe have legs enough to cross the room(doing that even still accompanied by our disbelief)that we have arms and hands enough to take an orange from bowl on the tablefingers and nails enough to peel it and a mouth enough to eatthis delicious message‘till we sing that with our satisfied smiles
The stumbling, slurring, interrupted speech(speech did I say? – it hardly resembles that)ok then, some few soundswe never connect to see how they speakand how to take this letter, this pause,this vowel sound strung together not randomlybut as if our hand were guidedand then, when pages start to singkettles boilstews telling us it’s ready
28
calling us to sup
hands full of bills suddenly found in our pocketsIt’s this way – I swear!and more than this way, if I could only saythe smallest part of it…
Ok – maybe I deserve to be heartbrokenand stranded, stung out in some wasteland bardowith only my prayers and repentance to keep me company
I try to remembersomething abouta Buddha in every realm turning the wheelto free migrators from their fears and poverty
Ok – I can accept the uncountable aeonswhatever they bringand maybe there’s not enough time herebut todayif only for todaytaking all my pride fear anger grief desireand noble aimsI point it at just this one aimthat whatever good I‘ve found be given oversaying:all that I have, and more, is yours
light offerings, if you want to call them thatilluminating greater truthslights for the pathlights for the inner learninglight that can’t be taken, or put outlight that melts away night of not knowing where we arein the wilderness, the most needful thing
29
refreshment for you and for you and for youlike giving small cups of pure watermultiplied in my dream, this dreammy refuge in the uncertain world that blazes
here, I want to say, is beautystop traffic with ithalt diseasebreak through cloud coversun’s zeal
had this conversation once, I’m surebecause we didn’t have a common outer languagethe inner meanings all we could clasp togethersaying (roughly translated)‘this is all that matters’
and so, with that, with these overlapping desiresone greater wish sweeps over them allthat I could place this in your handto feed our childrenour sisters and brothersand fathers and mothersand leave countless anonymous giftseverywhere for people to find when they most need them
becoming oars on the oceancoats in winterand warm soupand messages of love to be found or feltencouragingthe hidden pulse, the music we sway to without knowing why
this is itthis is many times more than enough
30
and so, smile,no distance, even if we triedfor the benefit of all that lives
speaking, or keeping silentno borders for this lifeno passport needed, native everywhereno tariff or curfew either
some time, in some placelong time from now and far from herethis same lifeplain as bright dayand always new joy spoken
31
Akin to all that soars
Akin to all that dancesAkin to all that singsAkin to all that brings comfort and joy
Akin to everything that is solidAkin to all that brings peace
Akin to all that burnsAkin to all that illuminates
Akin to everything that healsAkin to all that is lovely
Akin to the morning,and to the fullness of noon; to the tenderness of dusk, and to the eyes of the night
Akin to all broad dreamsAkin to all that teaches us who we areAkin to all that is celebrating
Akin to all that is utterly freeAkin to all things that proclaim themselves
Akin to everything that is not smallAkin to everything that is fearless
Akin to all that is goldenAkin to all that brings release
Akin to treasure todayAkin to all that appears briefly just this one timeand also akin to all the warmth of generations before and those that are yet to come
32
Stand on a mountainsun embracing everythingwind nourishinga bright faceand silenceakin to all wonder
33
What to make of this day
Jerry Springer makes no sense to meand Maury Povich, Howard Stern, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O’Reilly –what does this say about us?
that anyone takes politicians seriously, at all at their word –I’m dumbstruck
game shows, soap operas, professional sports, the absurdity of high fashionreality tv, sitcoms, imbecilic moviescomputer gamesnail salonsextravagant wastecommercial delusionamerican garbage culture
gluttons,drunkards, perverts, bible thumpers,crack addicts, soulless businessmen and women
and not so much as a finger-tip is liftedby anyone, almostnot so much as a finger-tip is lifted
to help the poorto help the hungryto help the sick
to help the agedto help the child laborer
34
to help the refugeeto help the political prisoner …
this is the world spinning out of control
and this earth stays silent
everywhere, underfoot,this earth stays silentfine brown dust blowing over everything
but in her is a songO, in her is a song
if you put your palm flat on her bodyyou can feel this great heart waiting
if you put your cheek to her,tenderly, you can hearthis earthcalling
our treasure held for safe keeping
35
and again I know what’s important
knocking things out of the way to hurry up and sketch itknowing I’ll forget again, but wanting to stay with this wisdomeven a few seconds more
You show me again how it is -that every kind of love is food for todayand that this is the one thing we needto do what we have to doto climb hillsto sing outor to think
For me to be without youarriving too late, leaving too earlysomehow missing you, your voice, your joy,dear friend, everything becomes strangethe distant becomes closeand the close far awayall my clocks tell me something differentand my own body becomes a traitor
you’ve seen me like this limping,incoherent, or putting on a brave face
o, bright one! come once more ! so the world can see againsee how lovely a melody can beand how this play you bring your whole self to,can be grace for everything
36
Did you go outside today?The sun triumphantthe wind blowing hard and softcarrying scents everywherethe whole world in conversation
new flavors met unexpectedkiss on the mouthall new dance partnerstap and clap their own rhythminvite you to rhyme with them
bouquets offered to you at every turnhand painted plates with delicious and simple fare tooall manner of hunger filledgiving power for the journey
Did you go outside?Did you hear the music?Did you watch the parade?
Did you meet your new love?
Did you snap chains?birth salve?give wings?Did you? Did you?
Did you carve a flute from a fallen treeand play it on the spot?Did you mail out hundreds of love letters?Did you make life appear out of formless chaos?
Did you start spring rolling?
37
Did you write long verses on scraps of paperbecause you couldn’t find anything else to write onand you couldn’t wait anymore?Did you? Did you?
Composed and confident, kissing embracingholding up the worldDid you? Did you?
Did you start something that will never end?kick loose sticks from that river
Did you stand in front of tanksas the world watched breathlesslyyour heart bigger than all of them put together
Did you introduce yourself properlywith some before unimagined flowerbecause, after all, what are we waiting for?
a day like thissweeps byand if you slept through ityou have my sympathies
but listen, the fields, the sunand beautiesare in secret conspiringto outdo themselves with yet another new day
let’s go out on the road to meet themit won’t be long now, I assure youand our meeting it will overflowreaching to heavencovering all the earth
38
Because all I hear is silence
[tripwire: seeing the August 7th, 2008 tally for American dead an wounded in Iraq]
On my way herethe wraps came looseand everything I wanted to bringhas spilled on the roadwas trampled and forgotten
of everything I wanted to you to haveall that remains is thisbarely a shred of its wrappingbut I pledged to give this over to youand I do so on knees that are bleedingpounding my handsunderstandfoolish, ridiculous as it seemsit’s not what I meantnot barely
if there are schools that come of this,hospitals, clinics, trained medical help,teachers imparting the arcanum of languageopening wide those hallsand generations to follow come of age beside their great gardens
if thereis clean water enoughso even the names of diseases are forgotten
and if the lives of you and your descendants are long and rich,know, this was only the smallest part of what the ark of my desire heldand would have delivered to you
39
these few poor works, splinters washed ashore, really, of what is left
these aims – how can they repay what you are duewhat your descendents are due
becausewe destroyed your familiesset disease and bitterness among youcrushed your human dreams, my familyand wrecked mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, friends, loverswith griefand helpless mourning rage
from the sky so nothing was heard or felt, we dropped our bombs on wedding parties, hospitals, and elementary schools, our blinded youth, our insane leaders,and vast sums from the public treasuryfunded your hells
a few ruthless criminals led the wayand not enough of us saw or acted to stop themthere were thousands of ways it could have been stopped, and we didn’t stop itand so on this day:
another 90 destroyed in Afganistan,and scores more, certainlywe’ll never hear abouteven as they mechanically, soullessly
40
try to justify it –at the podiumwhere every word they sayis the worst kind of profanity
they show usjust the smallest glimpse of their terrorbut it’s enough to wake me upwake me up also to
worldwide secret prisonsdisappearances, torturean absolute dictatorship of evil
This day, today, is one more day that our moral debt grows
because your homes,your schools,
your libraries,your museums, your hospitals,
and more
your children, your parents, your brothers and sisters, your friends, families, neighborstorn apart
since this is an unjust war, an immoral warevery soldier is a war criminalall of themthe extreme of moral blindness, taking out their own eyes
41
to say they werejust following orders
In Germany, and in Japan tooin the early and middle part of last centurythere were those who knew their leaders blasphemedand that the hysteria of the masses would be seen asvile, contemptible
as something rabid,a searing drunken flash in historyleaving generations to grieveand to try to recover humanity and culture
such is our nation, America,now, in this the start of the 21st centuryand yetno one remainingnot drugged with arrogance and blood lustno one speaks of this world as it isor that
everyday it is not paidour debt grows
or that
If we were to repay even the smallest partit would be like this
our body laid at your feetall of youthose of you who remainthe nape of our neck in plain viewservant to you and yours for as long as there is breath in this bodyto feed, house, care for, educate and serve
42
and then even thisthe smallest remnantsthe smallest part of what you are owedwhat is your right
by our hand, your injurythen by our hand, more than your remedy is dueand there is no measure for what you are owed
not paid, our debts grow:in Asia, from the ‘sixties and ‘seventiesin Central America, from the ‘eighties,and now in the Middle East
so though it’s a shredthis, a poor man’s offering,even so, o let it be what it isthe first trace of words,rains to wash away the scars of war
for me, there can no longer be any excuseto not actand bare though it may beI say, let it be what it isfor all of our lives depend on it
let this work, this aim, of apologiesto set the balance right in generations to come,this, seeming to be so small a thing,so small as to be almost nothing,let it be, at least, what it is
43
for however long it takesall our lives depend on it, I saybecause this road is the one we must, in time, walk together
44
Here’s how we can begin:
with those closest to uswith you all in mindand the aimthe great aim to begin
the homelessthe hungry closest to usthe crushed and almost gonethe hand reaching from the gutterthe trembling addictthe lost brother and sisterthe weak and forgottendiseased
mending the broken closest to usand reaching out from therefrom our own wounded heartfrom our own staggering, falling againhere’s how we can beginall the way to your and yoursit starts here
so don’t demean ittho it looks smalllike almost nothing in facta great aim can be heldin this slight gesture
love travels, don’t you knowthere I’ve said it
What else would you propose?
We have to start somewheresome time
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Why not here?Why not now?Where if not here?When if not now?
Hours and minutes are precious, given thisI can’t reach out and touch your hand tonightbut this, this is what I can do, sothree steps and a bow
skip a meal and feed someone with ittake less sleep, a few hours more soberand put myself to something worthwhile and necessaryThis is what I can do
The day’s not yet when I can cart the bricks and rebuild your homesor be the medicine you needor music for your earor some embrace to ease the painbut this much I can dothis much I can reach today
love travelsproviding every needful thingis there any other way?
and one day,maybe long long after I’ve left this earth,
when these fruit trees will shelter and feed your descendents,when words not so different from these will nourish and fortify their hearts,when memories no longer tremble –ours in shame and remorse and yoursin anguish,
then we can say –the ship’s arrived in harbour,
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our long journey’s at an end, at lastthe labour’s been doneand the long table set for us all
our families gatheredancestors and descendants togetherand each of us fedfrom the other’s hand,with the holy bread of forgivenessand peace
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Winter dreams
On the cold pavementI sleep fitfully,dream of palaceswith fountains and gardens in the sun,with music and friendsa soft bed to rest in and more than enough food
buriedbut beating on the coffin lidthis is the rrap of my knuckle-blows:
skin and bonesand from my deliriumspreading in space,a banquet with friends and family
I am a man on firesuch that I am all flamedreaming of gentle breezes blowing on my skin,and shining pools beneath a waterfall –these two halves in me meet like a thunderclap
poor, ugly, frightening, I dream though of a celestial queen for mehere on earthWhat can I do? it’s nature herself that dreamsthat speaksbut she does so in such extravagant terms!
so far from where I am
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I am dull as stonebut still, some spark hides in my bellyand dreams of being a fountain of knowledge for endless generations to come and quench their thirst
a fading sound, and from my broken form, a heap -the sight and sound of me leaping, running fast and farheart racing, skin glistening in the sun
outcast, scorned, in an alley aloneI mutter something abouttaking my place at the family tablegolden with renown
such dream sounds come from me at times
and thenfor a momenta single-eye sense of what I amand who I am rises above all thiswant and crying outin me and in the worldand at once I have many mouthsall callingcalling calling for rainwith nothing left out
My part of the dream-cry somehow finds the greater voicethe greater prayerwith no one and nothing left out
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a creative worda vast call
and I am everything not yet born
I am the power of hope
I am the power of prayer
I am the tide in the chest
I am a blazing message
I am the peace that calls outright in the midst of wars
I am the secret prayers spoken by millionsthe sound of rending the shell of earthfor new earth to appear
I am the will to be born
These things move and turn in meand such is this worldupheld, and turningon the axis of prayer
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all the voices you’re born with
child, you’re born with a chest full of voicesthere’s no lock on it,and they can’t be lost
they go out and returnnestle in, waiting to wake again
they stay with youand it’s too much of a secret
people look at you as though you are poorand you look at yourself the same way -but listen,
you have voices in you that make roads openvoices that make army paradesleave their weapons on the side of the road as they pass
you have voices that can make fruit appear in any seasonand voices that bring to our eyes never before seen color
you have in you voices that chase demonsand host voices for the angels that come to sing for youat breakfast and in the afternoon too
o if only you knew it!you are charged full of rain voices, of river making voicesof blood stanching voices
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of windstorm that shakes the roofs voices and voices that bless us with winter snow like silence
you have animal call voices, oh yes, you speak their language too,
and, guttural voicesflirt and wink voices
troublemakers of every kindhell raiserspeace brokersradicals and voices that bind up wounds
you have in youvoices that lead back from the edgevoices that, by themselves, pull drowning soulsfrom the current and undertow
you have voices that make children dance, voices that make buds open,in you are voices that are full of light, it should be said
and more should be said of this:you have voices that calm fever
voices that can raise armiesand voices that unbutton blousesand that pare us back to our original form
voices that make worlds appear on your out breathcloud-parting voices and not only that
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but sorrow, confusion-sowing voiceswilderness wasteland voicesand junkie beggar voices too
heavenly choir voiceshall of monks chanting voicesare there in you, listen!
simple, straight and true voicesbreath restoring voicesand voices that give new ground
voices that press clothesthat bathe, perfume, part hair elegantlyfeed gloriouslyand rock to safe sleep
you have voices in you that are landfall, my friendvoices that are mighty treesvoices that are inheritance that we hear, that we remember, and that are a great boon -those voices are indestructible , beyond the reach of this changing world!
Now then, dear one, which voices will you use today?
you choose from amongmedicine voicesor the sheer dregs, scorching voicesgentle roads, or devastating voices
voices that feed or ones that impoverishdecimating voicesblack-hole voices or
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all your abundant fruit voicesseductive voicesshirt torn openheart offering voicesvotive candle voicesdelicious wine and honey halavah voicesor bitter fruit, stale bread voices
you have all theseo yes you do
kiss and love bite voicescruel, friendly, kind, homey, fire in autumn branches voicesshining jewel feast laughter proving we’re all rich voicesriver gushingmouth of flame mouth of eternal water voicesor mournful grave digging songin the air wind mist voices
it’s up to usbut how many people knowthey can speakand the taste of honey can appearon their listeners’ lips?
or that because of your speakingthe secret designs of birds flying overheadcan suddenly become intelligible?
we breathe in and out and speakthe heart speaksand the heart is a mysterious thing,it is brimming with wondersand something new is born every moment
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don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!if they don’t tell you even this much, from grade schoolthen you’ve been robbed, daily, hourlyteaching you like that – it’s a lie,they may not say it, butnot knowing this much
it’s like walking the road past a great mountainand never looking up –not having had anyone ever shout, ‘hey!, look up!’it’s like walking around with our pockets stuffed full of jewelsand yet sneaking around at night and breaking into people’s basementsto steal from the dogs bowlimagine the disbelief on the cops faces when they catch you!but it is this way!, I swear!
let it be saidsing with all the voices in youand you’ll see what I meanbirth them as you need toor be squeezed like a sesame seedand surprised at what strange and marvelous things, grounds, and halls, and monuments
that come to be
this is how our old family songs come throughweaving our heritage celebrating a thousand births
voices that are a fastor that are a warm cloakor a hearth firevoices sweet as first lovestill ringingdelicious voicesall in youyes, it’s true
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healing voicesand ancestor voices,
all our past generations in youand voices of your children and your children’s childrenlaughing, playing, singing -these can be heard sparkling in your voice
furious voices, whipping up furious windsand voices that make the waters become stilltreasure map voicesand voices that cover over our real treasurelost voicesand voices that lead out of the wilderness, surelycharade voicesand rosetta stone voicesin you
box of worms voicesand voices that bear along true gifts
containers brimming with light
all these – now –what do you make of that?that we are chameleon?or that we are vistas to marvel over?were this form, could it possibly fit in this world?or would it surely overflow?
oh – this world, newborn and ancientstrife and wonder at onceWhat do you make of this?What voice will you use?Where will you go?What mountainside will you travel down? I wonderWhat cups and towns will greet you,
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asking for your voice, your true voice
When your heart is right, you won’t have to ask what form it will takewhat tambre
so drive the tent stakeshoist up the multi-colored tentsbring out the long tables for all the different kinds of foodand tune the instrumentsopen the gates wideand welcome the dayand all our honored guests
o let the true heart speakin responsein celebrationand you’ll find yourself singing, whispering, sighing, birthing, knowing flows and fills
and travels on in other voicesin the colors and light and music of the world
O friend!, give us your light!your rough bark and planed boardsyour fresh mountaingive us your childrenand their grand, delightful designs hidden in your voice
bring out new, fragrant dishes never before known and hot from the kitchenand the special occasion wine from the cellarbecause today is the dayand this is the hour
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amnesiac nation voicesgreat awakening voiceshere we are
why give rocks and road dust voice when you can givevoice that is melon and cold grapes in the summerwhen you can give voices that arethe substance of our worlds to comethe brick and mortarthe tangled vinethe hummusthe architect’s raw mattero let your fullness grace the worldover and overbecause we do so need your holy fresh bread and fruit voices
and I thank youand our children thank youand the birds in the trees thank youand the sky and ocean thanks youand young couplesmen and women writersand song men and song women we allthank you
revelee and taps voicesall neededJoshua at the battle of Jericho voicessnake charmer flute voices, neededbass drum and piccoloroadhouse blues harmonica voicesforgotten instruments and
all new ones too, just forged
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all necessary
and not only that, but alsosnake rattle and hiss voicesdon’t you knowmother bear protecting her cubs voicesbull moose in mating season voicespurring kitten voicesand king of the damn jungle savannah voices
forgotten languages and common tongues are there in youyou can be surevoices that have nourishing silence in themand all kinds of lightvoices of morning light
and voices full of summer sunlightvoices of moon reflecting on a lake and candle soft lightvoicesmemory inspiration voiceslike a flashlight in a deep cave voices
Indian summer in San Francisco voicesvoices that are the southwest desert at dawn voices that are light for ships at sea -all the voices we celebrate
you have thisso let’s hear it!
voices we can use to charta course to rich placesand to chart a course home again
to our loved ones
voices of being alone
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and voices that go out to the whole worldwithout hindrance
it is this way, I tell youin you arelone voicesand crowd uprising voices are in you toofirst voices breaking shelland solidarity voicesvoices warmed by the heart of the worldvoices giving gifts and gifts and more giftsvoices that are the food that is love’s gift itself,lasting for lifetimesand drink enough to fill everyone’s cup
yes you have snake in the grass voices too, but let’s notin you are alsoand voices that are a well that is available to any and all to come and drink
First summer rain in India voicesmaking people dance in the streetbroken from the rock spring- as-we-stand-dumb-with-wonder-and-astonished-gratitude voicesand first cup of refreshment after a marathon voicesgreeting those who have wandered forty years in the desert voicesgiving them water and orange tangerine sherbert voices
river talking voicesand flood wall voices tooknowing when to keep quiet
and high vista voices,ooohcool mist voices
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occluding voicesand eye washing voicesdancing naked on the table top voicesand anonymous giving voicesthorny voicesand voices that are a balm to another
lo!, yet more! burning bush voices, voices that are a revelation, voices that are forgiveness itself, and saving grace voices
of course, voices that blaspheme too but also
voices that overturn the tablesof money changers in the temple
lullaby voicesenlivening voicesnot-two voicesand voices of low-hanging fruitonly saying ideas that belong to all of us
and oh yes, I almost forgotif truth be told:bargaining voicesused car salesman voicespolitician voicessniveling, simpering voices,but upright voices tooyour true voices
voices of freedom
all this is true
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you have also man giving gifts on his wedding day voicesout of his great joy voicesout of his superabundance voicesa paradea wedding partymoving down the street, royallygifts flowing outflowing everywhere voices
yes it’s trueyou have this in you
remember, and sing as you will
or forget everything I’ve said hereand let it surfaceas in a dreambut with this difference: here, dreaming of food we gain a few poundswe say something of the sunand wake with burnished cheeks
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Help them first
Lords, Masters, Great Benefactors
I know there are people todaywho are much worse off than I
help them first
There are those having their limbs pulled offeyes pulled outthere are those being raped, bombed, living in terrortrapped in sexual slavery
I am not one of them todayhelp them first
There are those stricken with grave diseasesterrible
I am not one of themhelp them first
There are those exhausting themselves totally praying with all their might that a loved one be spared
I am not one of them todayand so help them first, I pray
There are those with no onewith no education
and no means to get out of suffering
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I have a little means sometimes, to ease the painand to restore some small hope
so, help them first, I pray
with this whole world suffering and no way out appearing to them
I pray, go to them, help them,appear in whatever form they can relate to
I’m not completely blind, at least not all of the time
so, help them first, I pray
but my life calls out toofor being the smallest part of what it should be -entangled, wasted, heartbroken, crushed, with all its’ infinite desires and remorseisolated, sad…
I would help too but this is how it is-I’m trapped, frozen, bound
I know I don’t suffer as many dotheir cries pierce the earth itself
but your compassion is limitlessand so I askout of the super-abundance of your compassion and ability
out of the super-abundance of your gracethat you help me also to heal my lifeand live my full lifeso that I and all the others I know
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can be best cared for by me
Help my sister firsthelp my parents firsthelp my friends who suffer first
help all those who suffer more than I do first:the homeless, the hungry, the destitute, the desperate, the addictedthe benighted, the angry, the terrified and trembling
help all these before me
but then help me tooto live the best life I can live
I want to be more than a paralyzed, powerless bystander here,tormented by what I see, or avoiding it all
I would help tooand assist, and feed, and encourage
so, for others directly
and for myselfand then others indirectly
I pray,heal us all
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Why don’t weinvoke the blessings of billions of angelsto pour down uponeveryone we see, hear, or think of
Why don’t we settle thoroughlythat we have it in our powerto feed each and every onewith the food that matches their deepest need and desireand then do it
Why don’t we do this?It costs us nothing if we doand costs us so much if we don’t
Why don’t we wash the feet of all weary travelers,offer them humble sustaining fareand a soft bed for them to be able to continueladen with giftson their way
Why not spread lotus blossomson the ground for each person to walk onevery step of their way
Why don’t we
Why don’t wewash away the murkof our confused thinkingso we stand resplendentand as light for everyone’s eyes
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Why don’t we pick upin both our precious handsthat part of the wounded staggering world soulwe’ve each been given to restore to health
Why don’t we cupin our handsthe dreams of future generationsand heal all injuryas our gift to be passed forward in time
Why don’t we abide in fullnesswith every gift passed aroundfrom one house to anotherno limit
all the brokenisolatedborn but not able to be fully born –this, plus the heartand there is vow
this path made entirely ofsomehow wanting,needing to saya mighty yes
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