Sunday, April 26, 2015

Nepal




His voice is licked
but his dreams
are the artillery of words loaded
to uncoil our strength.

Michel-Ange Hyppolite (Haitian poet)




I'm not much of a "prayer," but my heart aches for the people of Nepal, and I send them prayers from that ache.  Seeing ancient buildings reduced to piles of sticks, enormous sacred statues tumbled, ashy faces under rubble, the bloodied, torn pants of a woman being carried by others makes us feel wildly helpless.

That compulsion to write what we see. That compulsion to not sully with words what is beyond them.




The Real Work

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.


The impeded stream is the one that sings.

Wendell Berry

4 comments:

  1. Angella is right.
    "The impeded stream is the one that sings."

    ReplyDelete
  2. you've captured by feelings regarding Nepal and others hit by horrible disasters -- man made and natural. And the poem is a gut-punch. Well done.

    ReplyDelete

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