In dreams of the
Magdalen, I sing of doubt,
misunderstood intentions
of healing innocence, and
ancient arguments between
right and wrong, male or female
now or never
I am re-minded
to re-member Grace,
to allow this course
a love of miracles
through these human hands;
so my family can taste
a food bearing gift
and be curious about Source
Though the furniture of my life
be rearranged and unfamiliar,
and nothing is as it seems
life is extraordinary
driving me with a will of its own
of certain uncertainty
on the yellow-brick- road to peace
on our way
to the emerald city
we fell asleep in a field of poppies;
when we awoke, there was no time,
the children were calling
it is they, they who are
the truth we seek
the teachable who inherit
the earth, the young
wayshowers-of-the-way,
the mind-benders we prayed for.
I hear myself ask, "So, am I wrong to believe
this is no time for war?"
Her reply is this: "Walk as light steps
upon the body you call mother!
Chief Seattle was clear.
Listen to hear
how near the turning is ."
She turned to go
blending into brightness.
Now, I honestly confess
I hope to recall the rest.
Amen.
(c) 2007
See you in our dreams.
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