The birds all have
a bible, birds choose,
birds believe, birds
eating for treats, trusting in treaties
in their hearts they know their truest nature, in their hearts there is a song
and the hawk and the raven learn
they are what they are
though all of creation
doesn’t get why they must be in a world of black and white—
where the “other” may be right, when
the only “other” that I know
is the soul inside of me.
This is right and that is wrong,
but when your soul sings,
I love that song.
i wish that I could show you that I know you. I wish my wisdom were a book you liked to read. How I hoped you’d tell me something truer, how i hoped that you’d reveal yourself to me
But you come to me and tell me you are “Guilty.”
And I say
“Oh, my lovely friend,
is that your name?”
“Let me introduce myself,
I’m ‘Sorry.’ It’s nice to met you,
but I also am ‘To Blame.” I want to enter your sanctuary
with a heart that’s pure
Just because the truth has always been
here, doesn’t mean that we know her.
First I had to meet my own identity
by identifying with
what’s outside of me. There we play by rules of weak and strong,
but when the soul sings, I love that song.
at one time I was the one she listened to in vain and said
“had i made the better choices, maybe we would be the same…”
and the eagle soars above my head, “Won’t you take control instead?”
and let it all come back to me, and bring branches from an olive tree to show us there may be a chance we can believe in peace.
that someday i may hear the words the birds sing,
and smile at how fear can sound so pretty
to our ears, Because our fears won’t be fears
but tiny seeds that we can hear.
And the birds on the street won’t call me traitor
‘cause maybe this is who i have been all along.
I’d rather say it now than say it later
because when my soul sings
I love that song.
I know we’re all trying in our very own way,
and I know everyone is saying
exactly what they’re meant to say,
and suddenly the world is getting softer
we’ve gone up the hill
to fetch a pail of water,
we have fallen down and
we’ve broken our crowns,
but i look at you cause
after comes the laughter.
Don’t you see my branches are translucent
and delicate as the gift of love?
You may think the wings we wear are useless
‘till they show us that below is as above.
i tried to put words on pure potential
and pure potential is the place I miss
within a truth is anything can happen,
in family with all the songs that live.
posted first via Facebook January 12, 2009
Emily Stern
