a poem, from 2000: Spanish Mansion I have spent years cleaning closets in this house of ego, Exhaling air through windows that are caked with paint. Now void of furniture, now empty of possessions, The very walls of this rock house still contain a part of “me”. Must I now tear down this Spanish Mansion, scatter rocks and ancient paths of stone? Must I burn the grass that lines the pathways to find the peace I seek to know? Over my shoulder comes the “Hushhhh” of Christ to leave the walls alone. Retain enough of you to open the doors for the poor. Shalom.. Then be the gardener who nurtures the plants that don the gates. Shalom. Then be the maid who cleans and washes for the guests. Shalom. Then be the cook who feeds my Poor. Shalom.
Posted on: Sat, 03 Aug 2013 22:58:46 +0000