The words of the next six years will move us awayfrom mountains of rhetoric to journeys deep in silent valleys where experience awaits – where the poor lie hidden in the shadows, and shield the rich.
Listen. The wind is howling. Trees pale, wither and fall. Water is mingled with blood, oil and dust. So many little ones cry themselves to sleep – hungry, alone, imprisoned, sold and raped.
The words of the next six years must make our muscles ache, our purses thin, our spaces empty of clutter, and our community filled with the laughter, crooning, and bedtime stories, of another dance with peace.
The words of the next six years must be heard all the way to Washington and, spreading all around the globe, still the cathedrals of the world, halt business as usual, and draw all eyes to the horizon – to clouds of approaching dust.
Ears shall strain to hear the growing cacophony and jubilant shouts of women freed – the cackling cries of women and children with their steamy songs that rise like heat – and stop all in amazement. Yes. Our words of the next six years . . .
All will see – All will hear – the approach – of PEACE.