The Shalom Poem
Now is the time to say what
we have to say,
The room is quiet.
Words in our soup, wordless stories on
cloth, and the poetry of good
There was a new voice which you slowly
recognized as your own.
For the ocean, nothing is beneath
Room to spread wide our view
our thoughts, our words and our trust.
I am meant to have found here this
serious play of shaking out ideas
in the earth and history I
learn with you.
Do you love this life?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Remember the beauty of the
prairie morning and that the
meanings come after
Each holy site contains its
The force that through the green fuse
drives the flower drives my green age.
Ask me whether what I have
done is my life.
Dear dream of utter aliveness
What is the light that you see
Where is the wind that you touch
How poignant and amplified
the world seemed
The prairie is not soft, but it
listens and it holds our secrets.
When you read these lines,
think of me
and of what I have
not written here.
A collective construction by participants of the Oct. 19, 2001 Hopework Folkschool Retreat.
Images from Hopework Folkschool’s Poetry retreat
October 19-21, 2001 at Shalom Hill Farm, Windom, MN.