 | Gratitude I awoke this morning dreams abounding transparencies of tender glories, memories angelic and compassionate surrounding me ... your rich brown face your hair of willow your bewildering smile joyful on my pillow in my bed and in the house of our own hands ... the dusky day the tender darkness the joyful weariness of clay and light and water on the land and in the bush of your caress ... the children chase the ducks and chickens their laughter is the laughter of our ancestors our gods and our own hearts ... as though another life were given another past to fill the days with promise even renovate the garret of my soul. whose gratitude is this I've stolen? or does so great a gift belong to any one whose heart and spirit have not both been broken? Orishas wash my heart with laughter; such gratitude I will not give up to disaster or truth or sickness or even mine own end ... |