Image and poem by Oleg Yuzefpolsky
not in a hurry,
not in a hurry,
no…
one day is long,
one life is short. . .
i have wandered enough to
become the altar.
i’m a Fourth World refugee,
a pilgrim of Trust,
a Native of wherever i stay.
i have heard many Human languages-
they all fall short.
Then i heard the language of no words –
and it was mine.
Baby-girl in an overcrowded bus leaned
her head on my chest –
who thought a Mother, a warrior and a devotee
can travel in One Heart?
