Sacred Poetry

Kindling

The arc of that branch,
The quiver of a leaf in this strong wind
Support the sky.

Use me
As a stick of wood for fire.

How does the wind know how to blow?
How does the earth break to make a mountain
That rises up out of the sea?

Were you there at Pangaea?
Or Laurentia with its three bordering oceans?
When did you break free from Gondwanaland and
Begin your journey home?

Did we know each other then?
Did you have a name?
Or were you pure form then,
Dear formlessness?

Oh, the fingers of those leaves
Play the strings of an ancient instrument I keep bowing toward
But cannot hear
Like a plant leans in towards the light.

Everything moves in one piece.

The hairs on your head
Are the vastness of endless wheatfields on an open plain,
Waving in the wind, no horizon.

Wheat, are we not your children?
Break me in two for bread to end all hungers.

Oh, teach me, Leaf, Mountain, Wind, Wheatfields, Sky,
How to be like you---- mere seamlessness.