Little Big Pine

In my heart of hearts I hear a voice that whispers:
there really are no countries,
there’s but a single Earth endowed with many lands,
and every land is beautiful; there is no land I would not live.

But somewhere long ago they took away
my native eye, and when they gave it back –
then I saw a world of many rival nations;
then it seemed to me my country was the best.

In my heart of hearts I hear a voice that whispers:
there really are no languages,
there’s but a single Tongue endowed with many sounds,
and every sound is beautiful; there is no sound I would not speak.

But somewhere long ago they took away
my native ear, and when they gave it back –
then I heard a world of many strident dialects;
then it seemed to me my language was the best.

In my heart of hearts I hear a voice that whispers:
there really are no races,
there’s but a single Body endowed with many faces,
and every face is beautiful; there is no face I’d not embrace.

But somewhere long ago they took away
my native face, and when they gave it back –
then I faced a world of many hostile tribes;
then it seemed to me my people were the best.

In my heart of hearts I hear a voice that whispers:
there really are no religions,
there’s but a single Spirit endowed with many paths,
and every path is beautiful; there is no path I would not walk.

But somewhere long ago they took away
my native feeling, and when they gave it back –
then I felt a world of many adverse deities;
then it seemed to me my god was the best.

Somewhere long ago they meddled
with my eyes and ears, my face and feelings;
and still they do not cease.

Yet all I really know
is what I hear that ever whispers
in my heart of hearts.

little big pine
los angeles county
hearing orpheus’ fine harp with naked eyes.

From: stateofnature.org