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