for the people who have no names

Moonrise again.
Only humans need a word
for sorrow, a wolf just howls.
the howls just fade away
and a man might fade away as well.
The silence that follows is empty.
Now it is late. The moon rises
over the Sacramento Valley.
Walking alone, the sound of feet
moving through the tall grass.

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A child holds a silent dream, without rancor or duress, in your hands, in your heart, under gentle light, here, now.

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While watching the egrets wade
in the slough the words came to me.
I wrote these words down
for the people who have no names,
so that they might read them
when their sorrows finally become hunger.
In the slough the egrets were often still
as stones, as if they knew that I would need
a moment or two to find the right words.
And what are the words?
I don't tell you that in this poem.

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Wade out. The water is white swift. Throw yourself headfirst into the cool rush. Let the cold, cold water cleanse your secret sins.

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Naked, your feet are sleepy dream people, whose faces you almost recognize, their smells are imaginary clouds, imaginary rain squalls.

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James Lee Jobe 

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Treat every moment as your last. It is not preparation for something else. 

Shunryu Suzuki

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Great compassion is a mind that wants to release all living beings from every kind of suffering.

Geshe Kelsang Gyatso

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Three things cannot long be hidden; the sun, the moon, and the truth.

Buddha

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In the union of form and emptiness, our bodies and minds and the whole phenomenal world are not rejected but rather are found to be direct expressions of the sacred. Aura Glaser

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Everyone who wills can hear the inner voice. It is within everyone.

Mahatma Gandhi

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james