i don't know what it is that moves me

sitting here bored as the fumes from the factory
waft through the open door      staring

a tv screen of bland people talking

floating across each other with nothin' to say
doesn't move me

all's bland this morning

and in me      a dull-weighted mind waits for somethin' to happen
which must happen      within

while i ponder or squander

perhaps      it's better to sit here doing nothin' it seems
and see with open mind      what might occur

perhaps      one thought will raise a sensible remark

offer some bone with meat to chew on
or mem'ries will rise from the basement of my mind

or      my heart might touch an emotion      carrying me back in time
perhaps God will stop while passing by
smell my blood and notice i'm lost

perhaps      peace will be that much more

for a moment      established in the land because
i sat still long enough      to bother no one

anyway      i'm here sitting and waiting

bored and drawn      awaiting whatever will be
for the next hour or half      or      which ever comes first




*The Christian world had grown afraid.  It wanted everything to be in order, smooth and shiny; it wanted to reconcile the taste for power and prestige with interior liberty and freedom. When Christian liberty becomes the heart of people's existence, they lift their heads and raise their voices.  Like animals who panic and turn tail, who can smell danger faster that the wind can carry it to them, the scribes and pharisees showed an obstinate and endless patience as the strove to immunize and neutralize society against the threat of liberty.  For joy, which is born of freedom and only from freedom, is a deadly peril.  It shakes walls, enlarges the soul, strips off old skins, and tells the stranger, the blacks, the Chinese, "You are my brother, my sister."  To the atheist it says, "We share the same belief"; to the prostitute, "You are no worse than many others; in fact, you're more honest."  With its sense of humor, joy sees Christian liberty as rooted in faith; in its winnowing-basket it sorts out what is alive and what is only of archaeological interest.  Leaving the past behind, joy strains toward the future, treating what has been already been achieved as of little value.

As long as liberty and joy could be restricted to rituals, to certain special days and designated times, the defenders of religion were content.  Since it would be too risky and too costly to allow freedom to intrude on their everyday life, they decided to live only on the outside and fell back on official ceremonies, reassured by the good will that such observances presume.  They hoarded much of their energy by not really living, and used it up by practicing extreme caution while taking close notice of others.  It's hardly surprising that so many have left the church without regret or remorse, deeply convinced that they were faithful to the best that was in them.

A person is alive only to the extent that she achieves spiritual freedom, radiating the spirit of alleluias, no longer responding to external commands, having become one with God - who never gives an order because He is love.  Civilization, culture, the Vatican, the pope, and the church exist only in order to permit each of us to become alive and free.  I think people like Strozzi do more to expand human space than the cosmonauts.  What he represents is the leaven at work in the dough, which will take some time to ferment.  People like Strozzi are opening up the spiritual space for a new renaissance.
-Jean Sulivan