by Steve Cavin
Six-thirty, sign-up ceremony,
Faces, voices, shuffling past.
Bodhi walks in, gently smiling,
And the room is lit at last.
So many of them heavy burdened,
So many bruised, so many wronged.
But everything is easily settled,
When Bodhi sings her song.
Who knows why we came here?
Who knows when we're through?
Bodhi knows who she is, now.
Perhaps she'll tell me, too.
The words are clear, and right, and wise.
The voice is clean, and free of hate.
All you have to do is listen.
Bodhi tells the story straight.
Looking for something I can't remember.
Working on something I can't say.
Bodhi's done the work already.
She's always just a hug away.
The cat's in the aviary,
And Susan's revolving in the air.
Stand and find your own way,
Bodhi sits in God's empty chair.