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When we can process how we feel,

we can think more clearly about how to act.

Listen to contributor David Edward Walker reading the transposed version of his poem ‘Worship’:

010: Worship

I’ve been looking
For a place of worship.
I wander long enough
Until stars emerge,
And quiet dark
Reveals my breath,
And then I feel
This place not far away,
Strong and true
Inside us all.

When I’m alone
In this forest,
I can at least
Know I’m still living
And try to rescue the dying,
And do so with others
Who understand.

I locate first the light of stars
Crossing billions of years, and
The old hope of our ancestors
Reaches back into my eyes, and
Reflects inside yours.

No matter how distant and
Dim these trees lean in
To catch this light,
They still reach up,
And so must we.

Please, although we’re
Prone to slumber,
This so silent sermon
Is forever still being shared
And can rally us past the
Dusky trunks
And abject stares
Toward our actual reunion.

Will you be there?

When we meet,
I vow to recognize you
From then onward,
Having missed you
Ever since before
We ever met or parted.

Maybe life will finally
Gentle down
When we can meet sooner, and
Whatever impact we’re
Allowed by effort, providence, or fate
Will help us move the world
Closer towards what’s good
And back up from so much that’s not.

Until then, our solidarity
Is all there is to illuminate
The less lit places
Where species die
And future threats
Are ever present.
Therefore, we hear
This calling.

Near the end of the line
Under dirty blankets
Alongside the diseased,
We answer and
Wash and rub the feet
Of each one humbled,
The fearful of loss,
And those who’ve lost
Too much already.
We speak out and loudly
To rebirth the little time
We see remaining.

I’ll make a tithe
To enrich our church
With all I can ever muster
To ease both you and me,
One for another,
And another for each one,
Before this winter fully settles in
And this millennium
Gets much colder,
Before the shoreline rises
And the storms speak hard to
Our mother’s violation.

I see our interconnectedness even now
Where sunset shouts at dawn.
I second your prayers
About our separateness
And loneliness.

We must be brave
And reclaim the brighter joys
By tending to the unnamed
Wounds we carry.

I’m building the fire
At an altar beneath these cedars
For us to burn to embers
All that seeks to do us harm
Or interfere with our resolve.

I am waiting for you all
And have my offering prepared.
We need the dedicated to the living now
Much more than
Sleepy apathy or dying,

And I will seek our soul
brothers and sisters forever
Inside this solitary starlight
Until we meet again and
From now on.

David Edward Walker