carfully tended

My desire
is always the same; 
wherever life deposits me:
I want to stick my toe
& soon my whole body
into the water.
I want to shake out a fat broom
& sweep dried leaves
bruised blossoms
dead insects
& dust.
I want to grow
something.
It seems impossible that desire
can sometimes transform into devotion;
but this has happened.
And that is how I've survived:
how the hole
I carefully tended
in the garden of my heart
grew a heart
to fill it

-Alice Walker

'three deep bows to a beautiful son'

Here It Is

2016 by Alice Walker

Here it is
the beauty that scares you
-so you believe-
to death.
For he is certainly gorgeous
and he is certainly where whiteness
to your disbelief
has not wandered off
to die.
No.  It is there, tawny skin, gray eyes,
a Malcolm-esque  jaw.  His loyal parents
may Goddess bless them
sitting proud and happy and no doubt
amazed
at what  they have done.
For he is black too.  And obviously
with a soul
made of everything.
Try to think bigger than you ever have
or had courage enough to do:
that blackness is not where whiteness
wanders off to die: but that it is
like the dark matter
between stars and galaxies in
the Universe
that ultimately
holds it all
together.

-AW

Three deep bows to a beautiful son.

From Alice Walkers Garden. 

Recommended Reads

saturday poem

Revolutionary Petunias

The Nature of this flower is to bloom.
Rebellious. Living.
Against the Elemental Crush.
A Song of Color.
Blooming
For Deserving Eyes. 
Blooming Gloriously
For its Self.

Alice Walker

“When Alice Walker explained that meditation took her back to the way she had been as a child, crawling around eating sweet-smelling earth, knowing love and loving, she concluded, “So that’s the paradise that’s lost, that feeling of being one with everyone and everything.” Loss of childhood is loss of the spiritual kingdom within.”

—   Akasha Gloria Hull, Soul Talk (via bellahugo)(via yearningforunity)