Borrowed poetry

This says, so much better than I can, what feels true today. “Invocation” y Jeanne Lohmann.



Let us try what it is to be true to gravity, to grace, to the given

faithful to our own voices

to the lines making the map of our furrowed tongue.

Turned toward the root of a single word,

refusing solemnity and slogans, let us honor what hides

and does not come easy to speech.

The pebbles we hold in our mouths help us to practice song

and we sing to the sea.

May the things of this world be preserved to us, their beautiful secret vocabularies.

We are dreaming it over and new,

the language of our tribe,

music we hear and can only acknowledge.

May the naming powers be granted.

Our words are feathers that fly on our breath.

Let them go in a holy direction.


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