the Tao of social activism,
found in the newborn baby's cry.
in the hands that plow the earth,
that build, shape, and mold.
in the colors of the prism,
dividing light stream by stream.
in the raw and beating heart,
and the red blood pulsing.
in the day that follows darkness
without thought or plan.
in the breath inhaled and exhaled,
in the hand that fits in mine!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem