Litkicks Message Board Archive

i lift my wings and fly

Posted to Action Poetry




he teaches classes in peace studies?!
yet in the forum i wander into
he is so beligerent and resistant
to the views of others
(we teach that which we most need to learn)

perhaps somewhere along the way
he learned to be beligerent and resistant
to the ideas of others
twas i who suggested to give voice
to those who had not yet spoken
twas i who used the terms
'brother' and 'family'

i was not raised to use those terms
and yet when i raised myself
above this worldy consciousness
i knew to use them

afterwards
i walk outside
to the courtyard area
it is raining
and students are running
to reach cover
perhaps they were raised
to run for cover

i choose to stand and be quenched
as the trees that also stand
in the courtyard
perhaps this is THE court yard
where the verdict shall be found
"TRUTH" says the inner jury
and this time i do not argue

and standing in the rain
and smiling at my young brothers and sisters
who have learned to run from themselves
i spy the fountains
that reside in the middle of the court yard

the rain falling down
the fountain water falling up
and i enter into their realm
and get more and more wet
as those around me hurry to ?

to learn?
what i now know
now re-member

every
thing

every thing
calls to me
not the thoughts of another
not the
prepared
outlined
study guides
of anothers thoughts
thoughts held on to
that turn into beliefs
held on to
that turn in to
'truths'

turn, turn
re-turn

no, i do not find my truth in you
but inside of me
a fire that i have been feeding
feeding with lies/illusions/weeds/sandbags
and now the bright light
of this fire
now guides me

in the yard of court
i listen to the drops
as they come down
and go up
and come down again

and i hold out my hand
to catch the drops
but caught they can not be
for when they land
drops they are no more
but now me
only wetter
quenched

and i heed the call
to enter another building
of 'higher learning'
and i enter into
the auditorium
and auditorily listen
to yet anothers illusions

she speaks of pickpockets
and marks
and such
and i laugh and smile
as i watch this child
think the thoughts i once did

for what does this bird
now need with pockets?

and when the time for class is over
she keeps talking
but the students have stopped listening
long long ago
on their pages are notes
yet they hear not
the note which sounds
in their own souls

pleading
awaken oh blessed being
to what you have yearned for
since when you were a child
of innocence
of truth
of joy

the joy of flying
oh trust
divine child
that the current shall take you

to paradises
beyond your dreams