How to get out of ourselves,
we have forgotten.
We cling to our own skin and kin,
the rooms we are comfortable in.
Do we need to venture out,
out of these rooms
to walk among what we fear are tombs
those places we would go, maybe,
only during the day, but at night
we see that there is light
in the eyes of the many
who live in the rooms on
the margins of white life?
We are afraid to be among
the brown, black, yellow and red —
those, let’s be honest, we would
just as soon see dead
and not intrude upon our rooms.
Who will lead? Where is the spirit,
the will, to guide
us on the journey out of
the white washed but ever dark tombs
of our white lives
into the lives of the other —
the rooms on the margin where
Confucius, Lao Tzu, Buddha, Jesus,
Muhammad, Dorothy Day,
Francis of Assisi, Martin Luther
and a whole array and panoply
are friends, sisters and brothers?
*idea from a meditation by Richard Rohr