Let us try what it is to be true to gravity,
to grace, to the given, faithful to our own voices,
to lines making the map of our furrowed tongue.
Turned toward the root of a single word, refusing
solemnity and slogans, let us honor what hides
and does not come easy to speech. The pebbles
we hold in our mouths help us to practice song,
and we sing to the sea. May the things of this world
be preserved to us, their beautiful secret
vocabularies. We are dreaming it over and new,
the language of our tribe, music we hear
we can only acknowledge. May the naming powers
be granted. Our words are feathers that fly
on our breath. Let them go in a holy direction.
Jeanne Lohmann
2 comments:
I think a great thing would be to sit in your reading corner surrounded by all you lovely books of poems wit a cup of warm spicy tea or a glass of chilled wine an time to just read through a few.
Tabor, there are comfortable chairs by the fireplace, stacks and shelves of books everywhere and always a pot of tea, would love to have you here...
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