Poem from the Hill: Omar Zubaedi Group Walk Beyond The Stupa

(Images collected from the spirit journey's of the ensemble)

By Alli Chagi-Starr

By my life I am the planet

By my heart I am the stars

By my eyes I am the sacred

By my hands I am whole.

(Inspired by Sweet Honey in the Rock)

No longer waiting for the gate to open. I am the doorway. The clouds are my eyes. The bark, my skin. The black ant, my thoughts. The bee, my ears. I am the great story retelling itself life after life until it knows itself through my listening. The sky is my breath. The pine needles my song.

What are these cravings, these yearnings, this endless quest when I am already always home? What stops my heart from praying and singing, my body from dancing? What keeps me from my full expression of celebration for all this is holy?

May I banish fear, bury my separateness and know the truth of who I am – the soil, the stars, the story, the song -  angelic ash returning again and again to know my true name.

From the streets to the stars, from the ghetto to heavens gate, from the prisons to pangaea’s heart. Can we make this journey? As always we shall make the path by walking.

Old mountain, I love your lips when you pray. Your shape is a fierce, quiet reminder of who I was and will be. The pain of the ages will be scattered by the destruction coming. She says that part of history is done, and the Earth has spoken. May we walk in courage and grace for the coming storms.

And if we take something from this mountain may we sing to it as that is the only thing we can give. Then we shall heal our hearts wide open.

May each time we come together may we gather our stories that will heal, may we also plant a tree to remember what we came here for. Because we won’t get the stories we need unless we sit with the land. love her, and then tell her story.

Be patient, trust, learn to listen deeply, let go of the banks, get carried by the river and then see who is with you and celebrate. And remember the Earth loves us. Only know what you’re looking for, you don’t need to know how it will come. It will come from nature and from each other. It will come.

May we go together to pray among the aspen, the urban youth, the ones that are leaving and the ones that will stay. The blue jay, Dedeans, is our messenger today. He will tell of this circle of humans, and carry our stories out. He will spread the news.