Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.
If physical death is the price that I must pay to free
my white brothers and sisters from a permanent death
of the spirit, then nothing can be more redemptive.