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Photo by Scott Diekema, Nepal Semester.

…I wrote this for You…

This to you, to me

 

I will pick up trash from the

Sacred ground at your feet.

 

As you stand there,

As we walk.

I will bend down and reach

And touch the grass, the mud, the brick, the pavement.

 

I love you and my heart sings.

I will clean the way as you walk.

I will throw my life on the fire of service so you may walk

Barefoot on this sacred ground.

Our Earth is clean, spotless, by Nature.

I will bend down to look under the plastics and cans

To see her beauty.

 

I watch you walk as I watch myself.

I see the golden prints you leave with each step.

I see your soles massage and caress the loam, the rock, the packed dirt of our mother.

 

I will pick up the trash from the sacred ground at your feet,

Not out of anger and pride,

Not out of fear and disappointment.

I bend down with a broken heart,

Cracked so I may spill unto, into the world.

My hands reach as my head falls below my heart,

My hands reach as I die over and over again.

 

This is sacred ground.

Your feet, my feet,

We both walk our lives across the steps of this

Great altar.

We both may look and see the deity of our Earth.

I say this is sacred ground because the rivers are flowing and the trees are growing.

We walk in the land of God. This is sacred ground,

Where the flowers are blooming and the rains are pouring.

I see that we walk in paradise,

I see that we carry Hell in our hearts.

 

I will humble myself and bend towards your feet because I know

That your longing is the longing.

I see that in each of your movements, in each of your struggles

You reach for home, for true heart.

I stand by you, I walk with you,

And I bend to the sacred ground at your feet because

I love you and I will not give up.

As I live, as I die.