When I Die

When I die,
I'll probably die winning.
All the years wilI dovetail
into perfectness,
and I will die from
Sheer Joy.
So the struggle is what
keeps us alive-
We're never quite ready
It's never quite time.

You know, I too have a dream
to further the cause
and to be nominated
for a peace prize.
This will be my sign.

It seems as if
I will have to be better:
to be all-knowing,
an artist, musician, poet,
judge, lawyer, sociologist,
scientist, lover, mother,
teacher, cook, friend,

And friends say
You can't do/be everything
You don't need to triumph
over every adversity-

I must.

©Sojourner Kincaid-Rolle 1998. All Rights Reserved.


In Silence, In Peace

In silence
I settled down to write
what urgings I felt
the need to speak from this high place
some heretofore unspoken word
to find an ultimate uplifting thought
a tender clarity for the troubled mind
a soothing hope for the saddened heart

In peace
I found that nameless something
smouldering like ash-baked embers
rising to fill the all of me
and overflow profusely
to openly flame
burning through all barriers
through to every other soul

To heal the breach
To seal the bond

©Sojourner Kincaid Rolle


It is the task of our time to document the ways of our
time; their antecedents and authenticities. To show
the status of ritual as it is alive and in action now.

It is the task of our time to speak in the tongue of now
bringing forward the elders' elocutions the ancient
language, its patois.

It is the task of our time to communicate in terms
accessible to the most people, young and old and learned
of all ilks.

It is the task of our time to encounter technology to
develop its language to communicate it to the mass mind
to consort it with the hum of everyday.

It is the task of our time to swallow the stones of
Demosthenes, to cleanse the inner caverns where lies
cluster like streptococcus to drench each utterance in
healing truth.

It is the task of our time to reconcile the broken heart
with the balm of the joie de vivre.

It is the task of our time to kiss the wounded, to make
whole the rent fabric of our life.

©Sojourner Kincaid Rolle 1996/all rights reserved


5 Aug 2003 | 13 Sep 2005
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