I see privilege is a rich soil for sins of omission — that is, where privilege means the ability to see a problem as not one’s own problem. I see compassion as the eye-opening, heart-opening, arms-opening force that sees a problem as a “we” problem. This makes me kind, of a socialist. This awe sow makes me kind, of a mystic. As a mystic I don’t really believe in individual ownership, but rather stewardship. As one “owns everything,” compassion is simply a deeply patient harmony knitting everything to gather…
O Mission – Owed to What Might Be
O mission of my heart
What had eye
Left undone
Right unseen
A wealth of things
As poor out
Untolled openings
A mist chants
Of being
The deference between
Prayer and preyer
That see of opportunities
Taken
Buy the practices of love
Allot amor
Then what might be
Even contemplated
Whoa is me
If there is a sin
Hitten from me
What might
I want to no
That sad state of fares
Pain by the person before me
Or behind me
Or next me
How afar aweigh
Outstretched alms
And soully just us
