The sparks scatter everywhere.  
They cling to material things as in sealed-up wells, 
they crouch in substances as in caves that have been bricked up,
 they inhale darkness and breathe out fear;  
they flutter about in the movements of the world, 
searching where they can lodge to be set free.
~Martin Buber

Each atom holds a bit:
the bond that binds.

In its own time
the gentle unfolding of matter
matter at lightspeed
returning to the source

The singular explosion:
and right away
there was a mess.
Most planets the wrong distance
and one that is right still wrong:
wrong temperature inside,
and germs,
the food chain,
engine of evolution
the engine of deformity and grief.

O God who changes the creatures
shards of god so far apart they can’t reform
bonds that connect the nucleus

There is no reason my life,
or yours,
should be easy.
There can be nothing but free will,
all of it out of control.

You Who Do Not Answer, hear us:
for our sons and daughters called to battle
for our sisters and brothers, beaten and sore
for all who need justice, work and rest

Hear our prayer.

You, Powerless To Respond, listen:
how many did your tsunami kill
drought in Africa
earthquake in Pakistan
how many in the Everlasting War?

You can hear us, we know you can.
All your broken pieces litter the land,
each holding a spark of your light.
Pull yourself together.

Even if it means more suffering
I want to be attached:
clinging like a nursing mouse
to its mother lifted by her tail
and deposited without ceremony
in the snow outside the barn,
for all I’m worth like a fungus
to a dying tree under the axe,
like the father to his child
as the rockslide batters the village away,
the mother to her child
when the death squad kicks down the door.

I want to hold onto Earth, love it,
know it in my mineral bones:
a thin veil of cloud along its mountain crest,
like its shadow at sunrise
sliding down the trees.







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