Don’t tell me
what you are against.
Tell me
what you love.
What you cherish
with your whole body.
Being against
contracts the heart.
Being for
opens the chest
like an orchid
bending toward light.
Now is the time to depart
from the empire of despair
and return
to the palace of beauty,
this human form.
One sweet dark nerve
in your solar plexus
radiates a thousand
times more power
than any opinion.
Let this be your
worship
on a Sunday morning.
For a little while,
don’t be against
anything.
Only be for.
Be for the sun on the table.
Be for the late summer rose.
Be for tears and the laughter
of children.
Wash the whole planet
in the
foolishness of God.
A Poem from my book, 'Strangers & Pilgrims.'
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