The call to prayer crosses the expanse of rice fields,
touching the hills that silently listen.
The river carries prayers from upstream to downstream,
every ripple is a chanted name.
You who erect the tall city towers,
yet the floor of your own home is still earth.
You who plant rice for everyone,
yet your bowl is sometimes not full.
Why does the hand that gives everything
......
If someone couldn’t hear
My silence,
The things I said
Without saying a word,
The quiet pain
I wrapped inside my stillness,
Then I don’t want
To keep them
In my noise either.
......
The call to prayer crosses the expanse of rice fields,
touching the hills that silently listen.
The river carries prayers from upstream to downstream,
every ripple is a chanted name.
You who erect the tall city towers,
yet the floor of your own home is still earth.
You who plant rice for everyone,
yet your bowl is sometimes not full.
Why does the hand that gives everything
......
If someone couldn’t hear
My silence,
The things I said
Without saying a word,
The quiet pain
I wrapped inside my stillness,
Then I don’t want
To keep them
In my noise either.
......