Dear friends of Penn Central Conference,
I will open rivers on the bare heights,
and fountains in the midst of the valleys;
I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water.
These are trying times. There have been so many words shared about the injustices, frustrations, fears and longings of our nation. There are actions, both peaceful and violent, that call attention to these harsh realities. I yield to poetry this week as a better expression in the face of pain than my own words. In a time of fire, pain, and anger consider meditating on these words.
This poem written was by Clairissa Pinkola-Estes. I hope it speaks to your souls and provides an image of hope.
YOU COULD BE THE WATER ...
By the scent of water alone,
the withered vine comes back to life,
and thus ... wherever the land is dry and hard,
you could be the water;
or you could be the iron blade
disking the earth open;
or you could be the 'acequia',
the mother ditch, carrying the water
from the river to the fields
to grow the flowers for the farmers;
or you could be the honest engineer
mapping the dams that must be taken down,
and those dams which could remain to serve
the venerable all, instead of only the very few.
You could be the battered vessel
for carrying the water by hand;
or you could be the one
who stores the water.
You could be the one who
protects the water,
or the one who blesses it,
or the one who pours it.
Or you could be the tired ground
that receives it;
or you could be the scorched seed
that drinks it;
or you could be the vine,
in all your wild audacity...