a bell rings noiselessly in a faraway place
winds move gauzy curtains of light
a waft of sage and sweet grass lingers
ever present spirits of ancestors
bid welcome to this holy sanctuary
beneath towering ponderosa, trembling aspen
the river bubbles ceaselessly
from hidden spring
supplicants
writhing in anguish
feeling wrongly done
hurling prayers of bewilderment and demand into
vast and heedless sky
angry at the Void
why does the Ear of Heaven turn away
in deafness
why focus its Eye on children
laughing on the banks of poverty
breaking one crust of bread amongst them
bowing to whisper Holy Name
- pb 2012 -