Saturday, April 12, 2008
Prisons of Voice
Don't ask me to walk here
These mountains come too near
Something distance never healed.
In this light, blue and high,
They pretend to be horizons
Claiming the affections of the eye.
But in their concealed cloister
They hold each voice captive
To tune dead stone with narrative.
John O'Donohue 1956-2008
Diane Hazlett 1955-April 11, 2008
You are free now. No longer is the infant's mind trapped in the beautiful body you could not understand. No longer are you blind. May your next life be kinder to you. You deserve so much more.