Glory be to the clever one who causes
stars to shine and moon to wane,
who conducts the seas and
grants the birds refrain,
who set loves miracle element free
in dreams, and on a daring wind
that wilderness may join with
a tongues bright dancing.
So what if my own lips know silence,
if syllables whirling in my throat
pray trumpet notes disguised
as ghosts in heretic cloak.
God\'s instrument is spiritual, breath
~ a rivers flow ~ Earth\'s medicine
for brain, bloodstream, torso...
my hearts every repetition.
(the words in this Cento are from
Playing the Ghost of Maimonides,
by John Agard, specifically 4 poems:
Ghost Under Surveillance,
Maimonides Discourses on the One,
Maimonides Discourses on the
Spiritual Perks of the Physician,
& Voice)