Poetry by E. Ethelbert Miller
Salat
poetry is prayer light dancing inside words five times a day I try to write step by step I move towards the mihrab I prepare to recite what is in my heart I recite your name
From Whispers Secrets and Promises (1998)
Buddha Weeping in Winter
snow falling on prayers covering the path made by your footprints I wait for spring and the return of love how endless is this whiteness like letters without envelopes
From Buddha Weeping in Winter (2001)
I Am The Land: A Poem In Memory of Oscar Romero
I am the land. I am the grass growing. I am the trees. I am the wind, the voice calling. I am the poor. I am the hungry. The doors of the church are open as wide as the heart of a man. In times of trouble here is a rock, here is a hand. God knows the meaning of our prayers. I have asked our government to listen. God is not dead and I will never die. I am the land. I am the grass growing. I am the trees. I am the wind, the voice calling. I am the poor. I am the hungry. He who is resurrected is revolutionary. He who is resurrected is revolutionary. He who is resurrected believes in peace. This is the meaning of light. This is the meaning of love. The souls of my people are the pages of history. The people of El Salvador are the people of the world. I am Oscar Romero, a humble servant. I am the land. I am all the people who have no land. I am the grass growing. I am all the children who have been murdered. I am the trees. I am the priests, the nuns, the believers. I am the wind, the voice calling. I am the poets who will sing forever. I am the poor. I am the dreamer whose dreams overflow with hope. I am the hungry. I am the people. I am Oscar Romero.
From Whispers Secrets and Promises (1998)
Faith: My Brother Richard Returns Home From The Monastery
i was not home my mother, sister and i had gone to the store only my father was home how happy he must have been to open the door and see his first born to give your son up to the lord is one thing to receive him back is another i would not have been surprised if my father had lived the rest of his life on his knees i knew how grateful he was faith is the meaning of love between men
From First Light (1994)
Fire
i am ten years old and share a room with my brother. at seventeen he dreams of becoming a priest or monk. i am too young to know the difference. in our room the small bureau is an altar covered with white cloth. two large candles stand on each end. my fear of fire begins in this room.
From First Light (1994)
Rosa Parks dreams
Rosa Parks dreams about a bus in Jerusalem. A headless woman sits in her seat. There is no driver today. The top of the bus is missing. On the road a line of bodies segregated from the living. They sleep against a twisted metal frame. Wild flowers stare from a field.
From How We Sleep on the Nights We Don't Make Love (2004)
Find more poetry from On Being on the Poetry Radio Project page.
