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Posts Tagged ‘peace’

Your neighbor is the man who needs you. Elbert Hubbard

My Integrated Neighborhood

“Need help carrying groceries?”
a young man calls from across the street.
Wednesday evening and our trash cans
are at the curb ready for weekly pickup.
Our next-door neighbor
moved them before he
tended to his own.

I smile at gifts surrounding
my husband and me,
at the brown, black, and white faces
that reveal hearts exploding with care.

Garbage exists
inside and outside the population.
Love moves it along.

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There are two days in the year that we can not do anything, yesterday and tomorrow .
Mahatma Gandhi


After the Bomb Blast


Where is the cameraman’s face,
as he zooms in on the hungry bleeding child?
Is the small boy frightened of a creature
carrying a camera? Does that person
bring bread and bandages?

Then the camera moves to the next atrocity
and delivers sensationalist stories for the 6 o’clock news?

On the other side of the screen
viewers chew carryout pizza
and wait for the next commercial
to get more beer from the refrigerator.

Where is the cameraman’s face?
A minute-long film
can’t tell the full story. Somehow,
may the captured moment ignite help
and not more hunger and pain.



originally published in For a Better World 2024

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(photo of television after the show ended.)

They say that ‘Guns don’t kill people, people kill people.’ Well, I think the gun helps. If you just stood there and yelled BANG, I don’t think you’d kill too many people.”

Eddie Izzard

 

 

Groan…another Western

I pull my hearing aids out of my ears. It doesn’t help. Someone on the TV in the living room must be ready to pull out a gun. The conversational tone screams it. I fill in the script. “You stepped on my toe. And I’m gonna kill you for it.”

Okay. I admit it. I’m a peace monger at heart. Worse. One who drinks iced tea and hasn’t had a beer in thirty years.

Yes. I am certain there is a plot somewhere in the black-and-white episode one room away from me. Perhaps it is worth the gunpowder to follow it. The dead actors could get up after the script and appear in another episode. Or at least they could during the 1950s when the film was created.

Another gun blast. “Do you hear me, Marshall?”

Ignore it, Terry. Pay attention to your world. Breathe… Now breathe again. Get it out of your system and move on. Murder never solved any genuine problem. Life doesn’t come with a script.

Peace.

 

 

 

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“We make a lot of detours, but we're always heading for the same destination” 
Paulo Coelho

Lost—Again


The directional app on my phone
remains mute, while the road twists
and my mind twists with it
into lost places I’ve been.

Memories explode bully-style inside
my brain synapses, creating panic.
No sound, but an arrow on my screen says
turn left at the next corner. I remember

the shop with the worn yellow sign.
And space in my head and heart opens.
I know to move through uncertainty.
Celebrate my detours. Consider

the possibility that others hide pain
behind strange, sour, surly behavior.
May peace be made from pieces,
one imperfect turn at a time.


Originally published in For a Better World 2020
reprinted previous blog




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Trickle Up

Anne Frank’s words:
“I don’t think of all the misery,
but of all the beauty that still remains.”
Her voice was forever silenced.
Yet, her heart rings true in this oh-so-similar era.

Hope. Insight. Peace. They grow inside seeds
that don’t recognize their worth when planted.
Small, invisible in a world
where power and greed rule.
May buds of integrity bloom, then refuse to die.








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“It is important for people to realize that we can make progress against world hunger, that world hunger is not hopeless. The worst enemy is apathy.” – Reverend David Beckmann, president of Alliance to End Hunger.

My Name Is World Hunger

My name is world hunger.

I am both well-known and ignored.

I appear anywhere around the globe

where war has assaulted and destroyed

dignity and peace. I live where

there is too much or too little water.

I flourish where greed sings

every important song and

silences smaller voices.

I was created, not born.

Like disease, I am not normal.

Yet, I long to be healed,

to be in tune with the whole,

rounded into softness,

not rounded inside the bellies

of my victims.

My name is world hunger.

I did not choose existence.

May I slip inside history,

remembered as a shameful plague,

corrected and shaped

inside a power known as peace.

I am willing, so willing

to belong to the past,

gone, but never forgotten.

 

 

 

published in For A Better World 2023

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I was ashamed of myself when I realized life was a costume party and I attended with my real face. (Franz Kafka)


WE CALL IT VISION

Sometimes poetry speaks truth better than lines of fact. I don’t have many syllables to share today. One haiku contains lines containing 5, 7, 5 syllables, and one tanka delivers spaces of 5, 7, 5, 7, 7 syllables.  Peace to all.



DURING A BLACK-AND-WHITE TV SCENE

” I don’t see color,”
says a white man to lynching
as he leaves the scene.



COMMUNITY

The flower sees bees
coming and opens petals.
Possibilities.
Plant and insect share alike.
Even as the stem stands still.



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“It is character that should be the sole measure of judgement in the society of thinking humanity, and nothing short of that would do.” 
― Abhijit Naskar, We Are All Black: A Treatise on Racism

CONTRAST

The news broadcasts the story in an infinite loop.
Nine people killed, one an unborn baby.
Boy or girl, identity as unknown
as the reason for the bullets that stopped them.
I listen to commentary
about hate and racism while a winter-pale 
goldfinch travels from tree to wire, 
a place where robins perch.  
The wire is long with plenty of room.

Perhaps, there is no genuine connection.
Only a brief metaphor. And yet 
I wonder if change can begin
with subtle movements toward peace.




bird illustration made from public domain photo, colored pencil, and chalk


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An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind. 
― Mahatma Gandhi

Men willing to break their own arms
rather than race into fire and death,
war games played without winners.
The news spreads in endless loops
on screens with color but no dimension
while some watchers gasp, yet
others pass a bowl of snacks,
grateful the pain strikes in another
language, continent, time zone.

Human beings willing to reach
beyond a huff or pant. One country
touching another. One person
letting peace stretch beyond a closed
room. We will not let war
cage the world with hate. Or apathy.
Or depression. It will take time, but,
let us discover peace. Together.

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Peace comes from being able to contribute the best that we have, and all that we are, toward creating a world that supports everyone. But it is also securing the space for others to contribute the best that they have and all that they are. (Hafsat Abiola)

Peace Recipe
Set spirit temperature at warm.

Forgive. Inside and outside
the home receptacle. Sprinkle awareness.
Listen for minor changes and slow cook.

Watch the product, not the clock.
Peace can be both served and recreated
as ingredients intermix. 

Add truth and blend it with patience,
an uneven, unpredictable process.

The mixture is as necessary 
for an effective final product
as oxygen for breathing.
Water for life.

Allow contents to simmer, open-lidded. 
Take care. Hate enters and boils 
when placed in a closed pot on high flames. 

When the recipe is
denied by someone or something, 
begin again. Vent excess heat
in a safe environment.

Practice the recipe and serve daily 
without expecting instant satisfaction.

Peace development can take many forms.
It can be the yeast in bread dough
in another family’s house. 

Let it rise where it can.
And know you are part of the core
of world change. 
 

published in For A Better World 2022

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