Need not be lived again.
Armed for slaughter.
If you will study war no more.
Take it into the palms of your hands.
I am the tree planted by the river,
History, despite its wrenching pain,
But do not hide your face.
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
Have lain too long
Give birth again
Here on the pulse of this new day
Lift up your hearts.
Your armed struggles for profit
You, who gave me my first name,
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Your mouths spelling words
And say simply
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Have left collars o九_九_藏_书_网f waste upon
Mark the mastodon.
The image of your most public self.
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
Very simply
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
Come rest here by my side.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
Come, you may stand upon my
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
The speaking of the tree.
Of their sojourn here
A river sings a beautiful song,
Face down in ignorance.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The horizon leans forward,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
The rock cries ouｈｔｔｐ://ｗｗw.９９ｌｉb•nｅtt today, you may stand on me,
Today, the first and last of every tree
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
For this bright morning dawning for you.
You may have the grace to look up and out
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Lift up your eyes upon
Praying for a dream.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
The Creator gave to me when I
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom九-九-藏-书-网
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Good morning.
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Each new hour holds new chances
Into your brothers face, your country
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
Each of you a bordered country,
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
For new beginnings.
With hope
Mold it into the shape of your most
You Cherokee Nation, w九*九*藏*书*网ho rested with me,
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
Women, children, men,
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
The singing river and the wise rock.
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Traveller, has been paid for.
The river sings and sings on.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
To fear, yoked eternally
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
Private need. Sculpt it into
Hosts to species long since departed,
They hear. They all hear
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
Do not be wedded forever九*九*藏*书*网
To look up and out upon me,
To brutishness.
And into your sisters eyes,
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
The day breaking for you.
To the dream.
Back and face your distant destiny,
Across the wall of the world,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers--
And the tree and stone were one.
Which will not be moved.
I am yours--your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
On our planet floor,