A COMMUNITY POEM
This day, a pair of hands, cupped,
filled with water, spilling
from the spaces between our fingers.
Sip from it slowly.
This day, a garden, tamped down, planted,
waiting for green, tender sprouts
to burst from damp soil and bud anew.
This day, as small as my grandmother's memory,
but enormous as her love.
An egg breaking open.
Revealing promise, nourishment, delight.
This day, a storm approaching.
Ocean waves crashing
in rhythm against the shore.
Today the ocean rages.
This moment stings.
Make a sacrament of stinging.
Call it a moment and let it pass.
Weep a series of vowels.
Make a meal of your failure
and move on.
Remember the darkest hour
holds the brightest dream.
This day, a gust of wind blowing away
that which cannot hold its ground.
Strip away all that is inessential and inconsequential.
This day will matter.
This moment, humming with voices,
teetering toward wonder.
What if darkness is really transition,
the space between our breaths?
Breathe, push, breathe.
This day we unite,
a new forum,
a laboratory for philanthropy.
Our dreams run to and fro,
feeding the dance of justice.