beside the trees, i stood
holding the first ripe tomato
it sprang from the soil i watered.
I felt gratitude I could not express.
I hung a string of bright flags to honor the day.
I nearly crushed the tomato in my proud palms.
as I thanked God.
I am rich…
I am full…
my cup overflows
I hold a tomato.
(there are nests in the tree beside one window in this house…. the birdsongs take me through the mornings…)
this morning, unlike any other morning,
i feel
happy.
not that the other mornings are not happy…
don’t you see,
this happy comes from the understanding that we are growing closer every day…
and we know eachother this morning
in a way that is
unlike any other morning
my thoughts recently on love and religion:
Religion in the womb of love:
when religion exists and, in a sense, becomes
inside the womb of love
then religion is constantly filtered through and nourished by love…
then and only then is ones religion a by-product of Love
and Love is the only foundation that cannot be reckoned with…
when love grows and takes its shape
in the womb of religion
then our love is filtered through
and nourished by
religion.
our love is then only a by-product of religiosity….
and our religion is fallible.
i hope to have a religion that is a by-product of love….
God is love and he speaks through our hearts
He is only capable of speaking through our religion when it is encompassed, filled with, breathing, bleeding…
completely of and a partaking in
love.
stems
vines
saplings
grow through out
your
head
is a forest
but your home is a town
we mourn our friend…
even greater still we mourn because of injustice…
(it is the menace that makes able minded men feel useless)
it was a weight
but it was the mission…
it was the joy and the survival and the hope…
it was a weight
but only the weight of water
being carried home
from a well.
…and when it is gone i will feel both elated
and without….
where was i yesterday?
i missed your day of glory
you must have been something… all that blood on your hands.
you are
just a schoolyard champion.
(your eyes will always remind me of an old sea)
we have long left our neighborhood…
i could have passed you on the street between 8:30 and 9 this morning…
would you have known me?
i have birds on my body and weather behind my eyes…
does your hair touch your shoulders?
are your hands still folded nervously at your thighs?
as if you have been sitting in that dark corner all of these years…
all of these years that over turned us.
(your eyes will always remind me of an old sea)
and squalor.
