the sacred teachers


out of the threads of your liturgical languages
out of the spare sculpture of your homely wisdom
we formed clubs and built ironclad canon
we spawned conspiracies of hate -
now we are goose barnacles clinging to the rotting flotsam of old boats,
we are weighted with the dust of fear and the mold of suspicion

though we bluster and grandstand our way through time,
the original purity of your intentions is still rooted in Eternity,
your guileless simplicity is stronger than the dogs of war,
it is the calm light at the center of our frenzied dark
it is the grace of rain after a drought,
the rivers of compassion that flow as tears

sometimes we hear your spirits whispering
in the mindful pleasure of our morning tea
in the rhythmic stirring of a pot of oatmeal
or in a fresh dawning after a tide has turned
and the wind of rectitude has cleared the air

© 2017, poem and photograph, Jamie Dedes (The Poet by Day and Coffee, Tea and Poetry), All rights reserved

 

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