Morning Meditation

The chickens this morning reminded me of you:
Muttering to themselves, stomping about in the early hours
Searching for grub between their toes,
beaks prodding cracks in the stone.

They awake hungry and go searching.

I watched them through the screen door.
They did not know I was there and proceeded
as if unobserved

This morning, I could not say which moves me more:
These chickens, and their unselfconscious chickenness,
Or the groan of the oppressed.

(2013, Rolling Ridge Retreat Center, West Virginia)

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s