Thursday, November 18, 2010

Thursday Poem - Invocation

Let us try what it is to be true to gravity,
to grace, to the given, faithful to our own voices,

to lines making the map of our furrowed tongue.
Turned toward the root of a single word, refusing

solemnity and slogans, let us honor what hides
and does not come easy to speech. The pebbles

we hold in our mouths help us to practice song,
and we sing to the sea. May the things of this world

be preserved to us, their beautiful secret
vocabularies. We are dreaming it over and new,

the language of our tribe, music we hear
we can only acknowledge. May the naming powers

be granted. Our words are feathers that fly
on our breath. Let them go in a holy direction.

Jeanne Lohmann 
(from Between Silence and Answer)

3 comments:

the wild magnolia said...

Inspiring beauty of words poem!

I especially love "...We are dreaming it over and new, the language of our tribe..."

We are growing our sacred life.

Stunning photo!

Thank you!

LauraX said...

so beautiful...your photo is so evocative...ties so perfectly to the poem.

Pallas Renatus said...

This poem brought a long day of struggling to squeeze meaning out of a situation to a close. Thank you.