I declare that my life is not solely my own For I am woven with the stardust of the centuries And in my bones and breath, I carry the memory of the ancestors: The ones who crawled on their bellies to paint in the caves The ones who burned at the stake singing songs of love The ones who blindly marched off to war And the ones whose hearts broke from grief and the sword
I declare that my memory is not solely my own But a sanctuary for stories, especially of women, to find refuge: Mary Magdalene, Saint Claire, Hypatia of Alexandria, Blanche of Castile, Julian of Norwich, Esclarmonde of Foix, Teresa of Avila, Joan of Arc, Clara Schumann, Camille Claudel, Lou Andreas Salome, Josephine Baker
I declare that my voice is not my own only, for I am called to share it to sing the songs of Bach, the pilgrim music of Compostela, and to recite the poems of the mystics, to make a stand for compassion and mercy, to testify to hope and forgiveness
I declare that my life means very little if it is not woven in a tapestry of remembrance with threads that reach out to the next generation. I declare that my light is all too easily snuffed out It needs the shelter and companionship of others in order to stay lit with hope I declare that my joy is only sustainable When amplified by a sense that ALL the world's creatures are also growing In well being and fulfillment.
I declare that my joy can never be complete When children are weeping from fear When men lie in pools of urine in cages And when women live daily in fear of abuse. I declare that there is no Heaven for me Unless all the vulnerable are dancing and eating at the feast.