Michael Peterson
Early in the morning I am called from my sleep.
Gently, with soft tugs and whispers.
Quietly.
Far, far away I hear the rising and fall of the mystic chants of
People of the earth writhing in desperate pain
Waiting in a hush of joy.
I hear a voice.
And the world pauses in expectation.
"Call the community of hope together.
Take courage and say the magic words
Reach out with your inner being
And call the people to join you in the square of the city."
I tremble in fear.
Who am I to call the people?
I am from far away and not long here,
With mind and emotions that cavort unpredictably.
With pride that rises up daily expecting to be fed.
I feel alone yearning for together.
Then, as by the arms of the universe,
I am cradled and held with a sense of peace.
Rage and hurt and dreams undreamed
Storm in deafening explosion of thunderbolts
As I sob uncontrollably...
Drying my tears I wash my face.
Emboldened and determined,
I walk to the city square to say the magic words.
Alone on the precipice of the world,
I am ready to raise my voice loud,
to let the sacred words ring
Through the abandoned corridors of the city
With a sense of hope cast into the unknown,
Sure that I am called
And with fire in my heart
To send the call ahead to others.
And I walk.
Past the house where the twins died in the fire
last year,
Past the splendorous palace of the rich and lonely man
who committed suicide
Past the empty and lonely parking lot.
...so faint at first.
I listen.
So faint...
Then my heart jumps!
Electrifying energy surges through me.
Without thinking, I run ahead.
As the cacophony rises
People shout.
Drums beat in complex rhythms
Rising and falling as the tide on the shore.
People sing, hundreds of songs at once,
Yet blending, mixing in mysterious harmony.
As I round the corner I see
Person after person after person
Coming to the center of the square
Speaking their magic words,
Calling in their own way the community of hope Together.
I stop overwhelmed on the edge of the crowd.
A child, an old man, and a young woman
Come to me, old friends long lost.
Reaching out their hands with faces alit they say,
"Come, now is our time to add to the joy of the Song."
And hand in hand we walk to the square's center.
We lift our voices to sing.
Suddenly the city is hushed, waiting.
From deep within, a quiet chord
Long and sweet comes forth,
A chant of peace and healing.
For an eternity it winds its way gently
Flowing through the city.
A sound of...hope.
Joined then by a saxophone,
And then a choir,
Then the growing sounds of children laughing.
Suddenly in raucous beauty
the crowded square explodes!!!
For many minutes the torrent of music slashes
bright the walls of buildings,
bringing tears and bounding smiles,
hands upheld,
people dancing wild and free, stately and graceful.
Finally, we all pause to look at one another,
Eye to eye in wonder.
We All are called Together.
Alone...
To heal.
To dream.
To build a city.
And a Community of Hope.
Together. Alone. In hope.
Written at the Toronto Summer Institute July 9, 1997 5:30 A.M.