linguistics

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    It’s not so
    much what I say
    but what you hear –

    I can pick through
    my words like fruit,
    choosing what’s
    ripe and ready –

    I can order them
    meticulously, like
    mosaic tiles turning
    tiny chips of meaning
    into a shining image –

    I can pack them
    like pipe bombs, full
    of all I know the world
    needs to explode
    what is wrong and leave
    peace in the ruins –

    I, too, can listen
    and lay open my heart
    to the brushfire
    that burns, baptizes,
    and leaves me looking
    for you and a way to say,
    “I love you” in your language.

    Isn’t that the message
    of Pentecost?

    Peace,
    Milton

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    7 COMMENTS

    1. Milton, just browsed my way to your blog, looking at Pentecost stuff, and it’s awesome. I just sent your poem to a bunch of friends and fellow clergy, hoping it might find it’s way into a few sermons or liturgies tomorrow 🙂 Need to try a few of those recipes too!

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    2. I left a comment on HighCallingBlogs when I first read this. I did a post today which includes your magnificent insight on Pentecost. Thank you again for your wonderful words.

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