it seems I must love even you
easier loving the pretty things
the children the morning glories
easier (as compassion grows)
to love the stranger
easy even to realize (with compassion)
the pain and terror implicit in those
who treat the world around them
with such brutality such hate
but oh I am no christ
blessing my executioners
I am no buddha no saint
nor have I that incandescent strength
of faith illuminated
yet even so
you are a sentient being
breathing this air
even as I am a sentient being
breathing this air
seeking my own enlightenment
I must seek yours
if I had love enough
if I had faith enough
perhaps I could transcend your path
and alter even that
forgive me, then―
I cannot love you yet
Reblogged this on Anniegoose's Blog and commented:
At one I had her famous book – but somehow it got lost 🙂
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Thanks for posting! Great poem.
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thank you!
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