And Still I Rise

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A Franciscan Blessing

May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships,
so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war,
so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world,
so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

I Will Not Be Satisfied...

We are doing school applications and school tours right now for Levi. We recently visited the Manhattan Country School and in their literature was this poem written by an eight grade student. I had tears in my eyes during during the parents meeting when I read it, and I wanted to share it with you:

I will not be satisfied until I can walk down
my northern Park Avenue
with my jeans
and T-shirt
and old sneakers
and hold my head high.

I cannot be satisfied until
I can walk with my white friend in Halem
without that thick blinding fog
lurking 'round corners'
glued and stuck to you -
that think blinding fog
known as hatred.

It's up in my beloved
northern Harlem
bearing a shade of heavy cream.
It's so had to see through it.

I will not be satisfied until
I can say, "my people,"
and all will know
I'm not just speaking
of my black culture
but of my Hispanic culture
of my Japanese culture
of my Jewish culture
of my white American
of my Chinese culture
of my European
of my Christian
of my Muslim
of my Asian
of my Indian
of my Australian
of my Buddhist
of my Eskimo culture.

They'll all know my people are
the human race,
my culture the human culture.
For I am not one, but many.

When I can speak
of my people as one
I will be satisfied.

Pride: 4-4-68

This Peace

Lulled into peaceful stupor by the whisper of waves-
rushing gently over smooth stones
resting calmly on the ocean floor.

This peace is rhythmic, cyclical, constant-
But is it certain?

Shoulder to shoulder, a solidified community-
These rocks-calmed by the transient waters settled over them
Are they truly peaceful?

As they huddle together under the gentle, continuous waters of the sea,
Do they wonder what it will be, ultimately,
that will shatter them-
Robbing them of tranquility, of wholeness?

Do they quiver when the shadows of the seals pass over them?
Tremble as tiny, grains of sand scrape against them?
Shudder as barnacles burrow into them?

Or do they simply sit in ceaseless silence-
In the now-
Embracing and accepting the peace, that, for the moment, surrounds them?

~Allison Isbell, 6/11/07
Posted with permission