Tuesday, October 19, 2010

James Baldwin Said...

Life is tragic simply because the earth turns and the sun inexorably rises and sets, and one day, for each of us, the sun will go down for the last. Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, which is the only fact we have.

For while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted and how we may triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn’t any other tale to tell. It’s the only light we’ve got in all this darkness.
(James Baldwin)

Ancient Path

The moment, that point of no return
When you knew there was no one to save you
There was only you
the beat of your blood red heart
the pure white of your true self

But everything said something different to you?
"If you only, "If you just," "All you have to do is,"  What will people think if"
The real question: Where will you go and what will you do?

Now you find yourself on
“The ancient narrow path that stretches far away—
It has been touched by me, has been found by me.”
Within and alone, you must walk the path
a burden and a release

Have compassion for yourself and forgiveness

Let go the pain, anger, disappointment
The grief—that made you stay so long, or finally leave—
All those things imagined or unimaginable
That kept your world small and dim

Created a void, built the walls, separated your heart from love.

Look around and above
See the moon rising over frozen fields

Turn toward the silvery geese on the river
all at once lifting off into the mist.
Feel the sun on your face
Turn around 
with courage
to carry light into darkness

fill the void, burn the nothing
shatter the walls, close the distance.

Walk the ancient, narrow path.

swilliams '10

Sunday, October 17, 2010

No One Has Heard

No one can hear the song another sings
We cannot even hear our own; we have no words
only tones—rising to the rough surface of our lives--
then sinking back down into the quiet, calm mystery of our dreams

songs of dread, songs of memory, songs of longing
we may believe we know— It is not possible
though we have come together many times in the dark to create each other
In fire and earth, wind and rain
in color and light and in shadow--
all soul songs are moving and mingling
near to us, urgent and silent as grief
No one has heard--though it is our life's work

Beyond this plane we have met
There we will meet again–

and sing— a choir of blue air and bright stars

Sunday, October 10, 2010


I am self-contained
I bear my self within me
I am apt
I am alone