Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Poet as prophet

When did my words slip off the board?
There was a time when I spoke up,
when I knew what I knew,
and I said it.

Something happened;
that rebellious spirit, crushed,
slid slowly off the page
and I took refuge
behind another curtain,
calling out anonymously,
Pay no attention!
Pay no attention!
pulling the rug out
from beneath my own feet
in order to keep a low profile.

But action inevitably follows contemplation,
however we allow our souls to be stifled:
this is the heart of radical grace.

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