Jun 222016
 

This is not a time for closing doors
To keep, and reap, and sleep,
With nearer laws.
When all is change, proximity,
Climatic space, infinity,
And all we open, eases
All we are.
 
There has been a time,
When land came on,
Towards us,
And we bled for it,
As ours, and all our sons.
Now “ours” is a word
Not helpless, hopeless,
But a space,
Conducive, endless
And the land,
We tethered, ranged,
Comes towards us,
Bearing change.
 
We are no climate of amenity today
And nothing shut upon the world
Can force the world to pay.
We are owed nothing, only space
To stand within our homing place,
And make a hole, still out of grace,
And watch the flow, the hope, the pace.
These are the doors today –
Sun-fingered
That request our time
To see beyond the strange,
Dig deeper,
Change our living rhymes.
 
We are their prophets and their guards
These doors that mass towards the stars
And earth’s tremendous turning now
Sounds in its porous ways
A great disparate churning
Or an upswell of all days.
From here to there
The valleys sound
And dreamers flow
And lives abound.
There is no lock
Nor gracious wall
To keep us sleeping well
Only to stand
Beside the gate
And bid the bearers
Bear us well.

 

 

 

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.