and what did i ever have but this silence and the sound of my words falling like pebbles to a well.
beyond the quiet of leaf drip as night rain gathers along veins deep grooved to spill from leaves new touched by the awakening day, beyond the calls of birds summoning the sun, beyond the noiseless sound of barefeet on damp paths in the morning, a tree waits rooted in the silence at the edge of…
who are we when we wake in the morning to light that slants through tree and glass and window and birds that sing of wonder and love and yet racism still beats its ugly heart in our community our neighbourhood the table where we gather to eat. who are we when we let silence be…