The Land I Come From

I come from the land of self-righteousness & credulity.
I come from the land of the free to believe the air is made of molasses.
But - you know? I don't come from this land.
I mean, yes, I was born here.
I still live here.
The minerals swirling in my blood
were leeched from the soil,
sipped from its waters.

I live in the land of multiple wars & rumors of war.
I live in the land of fear & anger.
I live in the flickering scream
and the distant explosion.

I live here. I choose to be here.
But - you know? There's days,
special days like this
when purple weeds disgrace the yellowed grass;
when rain clouds haunt clear blue skies;
when the street is empty:
I see another land,
the land where I belong.

I dwell in light where the land is dark.
I dwell in sheltering trees where the land is barren.
I dwell in peace where all are fighting.

I want to live where the heart dances with the mind.
That's where I want to belong.

3 o'clock February

3 o'clock February morning:
awakened by the light
of a snow-laden sky

Idée d’jour

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light. To know the dark, go dark.
Wendell Berry

Prayer, 5.Feb.2012

Ever present God,
Let us live in your House of Light,
seeing with the vision of a child.
May we treasure our journey
and be mindful of your many fragrances.
Amen.