draw the mind free of habitual
animal ease. Sough of tides in the heart,
massive and moony, is not our sound
But hope and despair together
bring tears to face, are a human ground,
death mask and comic, such speech
as hero and commoner device, makes sense
contrive our face. To expunge
either, is to cast snares for the
ghost a glancing heart makes
along a ground, and airy goes its way. (Fr. Daniel J. Berrigan)
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