the non-believer who acts selflessly

stopped to talk.out of work rooferfor a coupla years…doing odd jobswhen he can…trying to raisethree small childrenon about $300 a month,and food stamps…he had that look,you know, that look,that gonna get shotcrawling in somebody’s window…trying to steal somethingto keep them kids a going…look…you know that look!

rise up and shoutto meet the day….how can we do anything less?the trees join handsin bare limbed prayer,the clouds wink,and shed a tear!the grasses swell in harmonious praise,and the wind comes whispering home.the earth embraces the fire and the ash….how can we do anything less?

or your shoes…i am not your destination,not a road sign,not a drink of cool water.i am not the fire that warms you,not the cool evening breeze.i am not the dawn,i am not the knowing,nor your heavy breathingas you walk.i am not the reason,nor the answer…i am not your path.i am but the memorythat feeds your…

the taste of stone wallslingers in my mouth.sunlight sifting throughblinds faded by time…the sound of birdsbreaks the deep stillness.American flags burning,an old deserted station…a rusted Ford up on blocks.the weight of the waiting,at the foot of the mountains.the smell of coffee,and church bells ringing.time coiled like a viper,the hammer, and the truth…they’re cracking eggs at…

i am at homewith the wounded,the bruised, the troubled,those who wear their scarsfor all the world to see.i know the darknessas well as the light….the darkness around us,the darkness within me….and i know that tiny sparkof light… that lies withinthe mistake made….that lies beneath the tearsand fears of the soul oppressed….that reaches out hand for…

when the senses come alive,and smell and taste take bodies.when the eyes see, really see,and there be no more need for words.when memories like trees walk into stillness,and the heart names every stone.when the butterfly becomes the teacher,and the dew is strong drink indeed.when scars and bruises put on their jewelry,and the soul becomes the…