Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Prayer for Words, Prayer for the Land

To speak with steel and bite, charcoal and rust, the grit of the soil and the grain of the wood, about things that matter, yet which are often dismissed or marginalized. To speak with firmly planted boots on thick earth how one feels about the destruction of the landscape, or how the animals are treated, or one's relationship with trees and vegetation. To speak of these things with muscle and oak trunk, with groundedness and force of character that demands a good hearing. To listen to the law of the land itself and give it the weight of statutes. To stand on the law and speak the deep rights, the rights no one articulates anymore, the forgotten responsibilities and titles. To speak as a man, or woman, might about serious matters, giving the soul and all spirits their due weight in the order of things. To see the ancient, archaic connection between poetry and law, and to speak, with conviction and the command of confidence and strong humility, feelings which well up from the earth and from the heart. Feelings about guests and hosts in the land, about hospitality and good order of things, or lack thereof, about justice on all levels, some seldom considered, and most importantly, about love. To give love in all its dimensions and axes full and proper weight, with frankness and open celebration of appropriate but generous sensuality, not shirking before hypocrisies that would cover life's wholesome earthiness, but speaking plainly real experiences of life deeply felt, and explored with wit and breadth. To listen, to summon up all the voices that speak to you, and let them gather within, until they find their place, and then, to speak them. From the words of this council, speaking words of counsel that cannot and will not be ignored, but persevere, and gather strength, letting time do its ancient task of growing truth slowly as allies hear the call and find what is ancient and true awakening within their hearts, too -- whence words emerge like seeds cast out by Johnny Chapman, and find their place, rewilding. Let land and age shape the feral and rough and give them niches and homes. When all things have a home all is good. Speak your home, and do not let home be banished from cupboard talk nor public discourse. Gather the beings that speak home and speak them : these are true words, good words, words world wants spoken.


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