There are mountains underneath the Canyon.
We weren't as close to the center of the world as we felt.
Still, in the dark, as we would sleep, embedded
In layered rock, we shook when the earth trembled,
And when the walls lit up, and the birds sang, we would listen
For the news of which city had been reduced to rubble.
There inside the Canyon it was clear
That we are all connected. It is still so.
We all must stand or fall on this shared rock.
We drink of the waters that flow between us, and breathe
One another's breath. Our own small lights
Aid and obscure each other's view of heaven.
Love for fellow man must make us care
For the vast and hidden mountains that we share.
A sonnet for St. Benedict
5 days ago