Fasting

I love this poem, and I hope you like it too.


Fasting
by Max Schwartz

Stuffing, stuffing, always they stuff, they stuff.
They grow fat stomachs.
They grow bayonets.
They grow rocket ships to the Moon.
But do they know a simple caress?
Fasting.
What is the word fasting?
Fasting in truth is slowing
Slowing down of time
Putting time into one act of now
Putting time not into the out-there of random stupidity
Putting time into the appreciative cutting of the carrot,
The cutting of the celery, the cutting of the onion,
The serving of the tray, the giving of the glance,
The giving of the glass, the giving of the caress,
The simple time-felt being at one with the moment,
The simple time-felt, non-aggressive move to your crazy
brother, who curses you.
You ain't got 30 bayonets,
You ain't got swinging flashing fists
You ain't got all that speed.
You've just got a simple place of now,
A simple place of appreciative being.
Don't rape the food, don't rape the bean.
You are the food, you are the bean.
You are the beautiful pungence of the garlic
You are the slow simple sip of tea.
You are the warmth of the teacup in your hand
You are the warmth of the tea leaves glowing
You are the warmth of the Sun
You are the simplicity of the Sun
You are the simplicity of the tree
You are the grandeur and simplicity of the Sun and the tree.
You simply can say a simple prayer.
You simply say to all, to everyone and everything that
nourishes you:
Thank you.