You are currently browsing the daily archive for May 11, 2006.

This is my letter to the World
That never wrote to Me—
The simple News that Nature told—
With tender Majesty

Her Message is committed
To Hands I cannot see—
For love of Her—Sweet—countrymen—
Judge tenderly—of Me

I dwell in Possibility–
A fairer House than Prose–
More numerous of Windows–
Superior–for Doors–

Of Chambers as the Cedars–
Impregnable of Eye–
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky–

Of Visitors–the fairest–
For Occupation–This–
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise–

by Emily Dickinson 

The sun is shining bright upon the earth,

so that one might think justice reigned.

But it’s hard to keep focus—

hard to dream or to pray.

 

Who calls things progressive

that are bloody or technical?

Not a bear.  Driven to the mountains

or the denseness of forest,

the grizzly may follow the buffalo—

now that the hour is late.

 

Most of his corridors of movement

have been destroyed.  Who, then, will

teach us to love the freedom of open range?

The Great Plains hold a tearful trail

and not only for mankind. 

 

The grizzly’s alone, and not always by choice.

Lifting the Cup

When we hold firm our cups of life, fully acknowledging their sorrows and joys, we will also be able to lift our cups in human solidarity. Lifting our cups means that we are not ashamed of what we are living, and this gesture encourages others to befriend their truths as we are trying to befriend ours. By lifting up our cups and saying to each other, "To life" or "To your health," we proclaim that we are willing to look truthfully at our lives together. Thus, we can become a community of people encouraging one another to fully drink the cups that have been given to us in the conviction that they will lead us to true fulfillment.

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