In a dry and arid land where many
hands dig ditches and carry
water over long miles, across
treacherous places, through manifold
dangers, through
manifold wonders,
through land inhabited by
strangers who speak in strong
and foreign tongues, hands
bringing water to nurture gardens,
to embellish plots with greenery,
to change the face of earth. And
where, I wonder - I wonder, O
Los Angeles, when your cisterns break
and your water spills, where then
can you turn your painted face?
We were gathered around
a fire, gathered and gathering -
more men and more women, fires
encircling fires, until the light
became perpetual, and the gathered
fire we have called a city.
In the land of Shinar, in
the land of Salem, at the
mouth of thin rivers, at
the mouth of the wide
sea, gathered in the month
of sowing, at the month of
harvest, gathered together
and content to be called
a city.
In the city of indifference,
the city of acedia,
city of sacrificial love,
the city sprawling under sun,
we have been gathered here.
