What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life?The world would split open.
No one wants to read poetry. You have to make it impossible for them to put the poem down–impossible for them to stop reading it, word after word. You have to keep them from closing the book.
Always our wars have been our confessions of weakness
The fear of poetry is an indication that we are cut off from our own reality.
I hear the singing of the lives of women. The clear mystery, the offering, and the pride.
As we live our truths, we will communicate across all barriers, speaking for the sources of peace. Peace that is not lack of war, but fierce and positive.
We are against war and the sources of war. We are for poetry and the sources of poetry.
We hear the saints saying: Our brother the world. We hear the revolutionaries: Dare we win?
However confused the scene of our life appears however torn we may be who now do face that scene it can be faced and we can go on to be whole.
I think there is a choice possible to us at any moment as long as we live. But there is no sacrifice. There is a choice and the rest falls away. Second choice does not exist. Beware of those who talk about sacrifice.
I hear the singing of the lives of women. The clear mystery the offering the pride.
Not all things are blest but the seeds of all things are blest.
Dreams are the sources of action the meeting and the end a resting place among the flight of things.
However confused the scene of our life appears however torn we may be who now do face that scene it can be faced and we can go on to be whole.