out in the villages
....far beyond the lively zocalos,
nourishment for days on end is scooped from the same
blue speckled enamel pot warming on an open fire.
frijoles con tortillas.
chickens under foot, swept dirt floor,
a one room casita woven out of reeds.
lattice that welcomes in the moon at night
and frees the swirling smoke from mornings fire,
white doves
into the quiet air.
when a total stranger chances by,
different by language, colour, clothes, religion
there is no hesitation.
bienvenido!
come in, please, are you hungry?
astonishing,
this willingness to share all
of the only food they have.
how do i know this?
because i have been that passerby,
welcomed in to kneel on an earthen floor.
charmed by hens, chicks and children,
blessed to dip my hand into the common bowl
of humanity.
taught to grind gleaming kernels of corn
into sun gold masa.
i have,
to the sounds of bright laughter,
fashioned tortillas to lay misshapen on the hot comal
beside the perfect circles of even the youngest of my hosts.
their welcoming, generous inclusion of me and the willingness to share
ALL of what little they had fills me to this day.
some days are for filling an open palm,
offering where you sense a need.
other days are for receiving, allowing the great circle of love
to fill your cup.
wherever our days take us,
may we strengthen our sensitivity to those around us.
may we hear the underlining need beneath the conversation.
may we open our hearts to a higher calling
so in each new moment we are well versed
in the art of seeing
where we can make a difference.
may we offer comfort, encouragement,
compassion, and peace
as we share
from the common bowl of humanity.
in a compassionate world,
there are no strangers.
