“the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house
but we are not mere tools
so let us not speak of our troubles
inside this castle..}
crumbled under bricks
and lay against crushed clay mortar
as if moths between jars
fit not our crowns
and royal jelly
dissolves our teeth.
never meant was contained to be:
the word,when &
the creator spoke silence
we are (and always halve been) -ness and -ness
and -ness and -ness,
less than a whole
but always together
Be warmed by the fires of love.
Be rocks drearily coaxed into slow, radiant heat;
bask baking bare to the breeze. Be the middle of the circle. the centre of family.
the baby born into the arms of grandmother and grandfather.
Be the beat of feet and soft bed of palms turned up to the sky.
Be the whispered moment. Be the background voices and the sound of mom. ear to warm chest,
like the ear to a shell. it is the ocean calling.
Be seen in the dancing shadows. Be the delighted shrieking children.
Be the hunters drinking mead.
Be the warm mug of coffee, cigarette in finger,
hands wrapped ’round glazing clay; looking down
into a bowl of stars.