step to the table with a pen
release all the static within
view the universe clearly
in my thoughts sand, gravel slipping through my hands
cocoa butter memories swim around
this intellectual revolutionary
bury me with dark chocolate and a floatie
i can back stroke through the essence of life
anger and admiration raise the question
are you really that comfortable with ignorance?
ebonics has spread like the bubonic plague
devil obscured our language to make meaning vague
if you can’t comprehend what i said
let me reiterate
in communication lies peace these words we preach
but the violence can’t cease if no one understands us
ninety percent of your speech is driven by thought
think of the truth
translate that into actions dominated by ninety percent of your heart
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— by Wendell Berry
He went out of the room in which he was praying. He spent there years and years.
He seemed as if he just came out of the depth of an ocean,
or out of the heart of a pearl,
or out of the core of mercy,
or out of the arms of a mother,
He stood and looked around him, what he saw made him return to his room and close the door behind him.