Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Monday, May 21, 2018

spiritual poverty

“When will our consciences grow so tender
that we will act to prevent human misery rather than avenge it?”
                             Eleanor Roosevelt

Are we so empty
So fearful

That we have lost our ability
To give
And to welcome?

In the mist of a rainy evening
I watch the horses play
Musical hay piles

Wandering distractedly
Sadie, the alpha
Aged and bony though she may be
Still queens over the pasture

Finally settling
And so to the others

And then, magically
From the darkness under the trees
Come the deer

But eager

Finding their way to the piles of hay
And there they
The haves and the have nots

All stomachs being sated
Because of generosity and welcome

How it speaks of the poverty
Of those with obscene wealth
That they must grasp for more

Knowing that because they do
Someone goes hungry
Someone sleeps on the street
Someone has no health care
Someone lives in despair

How it speaks of the poverty
Of those with all the power
Who misuse that power
Who lie and cheat and steal

Gasping, consuming, gorging themselves

On what does not
Will not
Can not satisfy

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