“Let us declare . . . “
Let us declare here and now that there is a white, winding path that does not start before us and does not end behind.
You have not touched it with your bare pink hands, she has not stored it in plastic in her fridge, he can not think about it with the things in his briefcase.
With the seeds of dark greens and six-petaled flowers, it is as white as a meadow and broad as the moon, it must be know and we pass right by it.
Let us behave as good children, aware that each day brings another handful of hunger, house of cool around us which must be warmed.
Each day while we hunger and heat the path winds past us, it stretches from the tail of a sperm to the night outside the galaxy, it sings with a billion voices a whine of chord that passes through us, setting our cells to hum,
But we must beware that we are on a bus, or standing on a bus, and a scaffold, we want the hours to turn around,
And this path we all declare is standing still inside us, where we talk about the news it is in pinwheels spinning, it is on spokes stretching, it is not depending,
And let us know where we can see and why we are blind. In the sun, with our tans, on our sides, in the crowded sand, with the tow, through the waves,
We know and we don’t know that there is a deep green road, there is a slowly spoken word, we are end before we are wind behind in saying follow,
Follow the path, what path, who is walking there, who wants to not eat the hot dogs and never gulp the coke,
To bind their feet with shoes that step regardless, that stick to the gum, stuck to where they cannot go on.
And as we ride this bus to our succession of stops let us say that we must believe there is a place, in deep green and past white, and whistling between us,
Let us declare as we go here that we would know the kindness of the twining band that is from before and behind, that has stayed, that makes us, this way,
Here, white or not, where we were war will be wind are now a mind, winding around what it cannot hold, in wonder.