If I be the bread that feeds every hungry soul on earth,
I would make each crumb the stones that bruise
Stubborn toes when the eyes choose to see less.
Yes, when the stone brings forth blood from your toe,
Within the stone and the blood, you would see the bread
That sustains life, eat and be merry, for that’s satisfaction itself.
What food puts hunger to death?
What blueprint arrests death or resurrects its victims?
Worry not yourself that death places hurdles before those
Who have fewer dreams to run and jump; Bruise your soft skins
And make pathways where footprints die in the eyes of many men.
Find everything. See everything. Touch everything.
There are answers to every unasked question which finds
Solace in your mind’s room. But, why does your mind host
Questions which hide their faces from answers?
Answers are not written in dreamland as eyes close in sleep
When they should be wide open like daylight, searching for the charm
Of darkness; let those who know the right crumbs eat the bread of benediction.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem