Where does inspiration lie? Everywhere!

This is my attempt to pounce on and then shape the words I breathe.

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Saturday, July 26, 2014

In the Red Tent


For Children The Gates of Paradise


From the red tent under the sycamore, amid the hustle
of Science Square and spirit-led Quaker community,
we poets hear “The Circle Game” play in the distance.   
A caterpillar line dances down my arm.
Our feet are in cut grass, dead leaves, broad-leaf plantain and clover.
The sessions sit in us; I feel God’s presence in my belly.
 
We are, as our incoming General Secretary said:
“a powerful, needed, gathered people.”
We are, as our Clerk noted, the same
on both sides of the podium.  We do
the business of our meetings where
no one thinks to minute Trayvon Martin.
 
See where new actions must begin
to re-direct our great body?
Our transforming outer skin is
a slow-moving giant who needs its muscle and heart,
its expanding lungs, its roots in the earth,
its molecules alive and ready to dare.





Posted in Poets United Poetry Pantry #211.


  Copyright © 2014  S.L.Chast