We of this Fury: Language of the people. My people.

29 June 2008

Language of the people. My people.

"Have you ever wondered-the language of your birth is not the language of your soul? The language of your knowledge is not the language of your people?"

"I have not," replied the farmer, "for my language groans within the land, the loch, the glen. My language gladdens with the sunrise hearts made heavy by night's dew. My language is the peoples' longing."

"Teach me," I said. "Teach me the language of your people."

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Mindful--Mary Oliver

Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for -
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?