“These twelve Jesus sent out, instructing them, “Go nowhere among the Gentiles and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”
We begin closest to home—
our own culture giving us
a secondary kind of authority,
the lost sheep still in the shadowed corners of the fold
we know best.
If we can speak and stand up here,
then perhaps will come the skills to do so everywhere;
close to our roots,
snuggled tight with the mirror,
we have the courage to think we know best.
To play as musicians together
sometimes it is easier to read the same notes,
to recall the same stories
the long, bright days of midsummer
as fingers dance on strings.
We know the songs.
Or think we do.
It is harder to begin with an assumption
of the basic unity of all humankind—
that is the place we know best
in our heart of hearts
but believe in