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Posts Tagged ‘peace’

Young Man Apprehended: This Is Not a News Story  

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2022| Leave a Comment »

Peace is

Be the peace you wish to be. (Martin Luther King)

“There’s a police car in the parking lot. With its lights on,” someone in our spiritual group calls.

No sirens. Nevertheless, I’m jolted from the sweetness of our gathering.

I see a young man with dark skin and long hair. He hides beside a parked car. He runs next to the beige walls of a church and squats down, then runs again. I don’t know what happened, or why he hides.

With no chaos, no noise, and no gunfire, the police drive away. With the young man inside the car. I hear nothing of a forced encounter. I don’t see the capture at all. The beginning or end of a story. I see part of a scene from a silent play in progress. No ticket to follow its progress.

Later, the moment replays in my mind. And heart. May peace and justice meet without bias. May no violence be a sign of a reasonable outcome.

I recall simpler situations. The lady in front of me in the checkout line at the grocery. She’s uptight over the way a young man bags. I have her pegged. Yet, this could be just a sideways reaction on a difficult day. Even if my assessment is accurate, does it need to alter who I am?

Be the peace you wish to be. Okay, Dr. King. If you can do it, anyone can.

 

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If Only, a Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , on January 14, 2022| Leave a Comment »

To move freely you must be deeply rooted. (Bella Lewitzky)

 

IF ONLY

If peace were a bird, it would fly through heat or wind. 
It would thrive in a nest open to storm.


If peace were a mountain,
it would stand patient,
constant, firm for centuries.

If peace were a tree, it would begin
as an acorn, unafraid of darkness,

then grow to house birds,
and reach for mountains.

Peace. It transcends
mountain borders, 
and allows foreign bird species
to nest together

despite unseen possibilities.



originally published in For a Better World 2011

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Adeline, Teach Me About Innocence

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , on December 27, 2021| 1 Comment »

Addie back view (2)

Children are the true connoisseurs, what’s precious to them has no price just value.
(Bel Kaufman) 

 

Two-year-old Adeline takes my finger, not my hand. Her hands aren’t big enough yet. Her charisma is sunshine mid-summer style. Time to play. I am the only other kid available. My granddaughter doesn’t seem to care about the seventy-three-year age difference.

The make-believe electric surface of her toy stove would be on if the scene were real. A wooden cell phone lies on the right front burner. Adeline needs my help to get corn on the cob out of the coffee pot. Strange, I’ve never faced this problem in my own kitchen.

She pulls two t-shirts out of her drawer and puts one on her head and one on mine. The procession begins. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have enough vocabulary to explain the ritual. I do understand the end of the game when she takes both shirts, returns them to the drawer and says, “all done.”

I don’t understand much of what my youngest grandchild says. I do comprehend her laughter, her enthusiasm, and her love. The slightest sound calls for a dance. Why walk when you can run? World ugliness hasn’t touched her yet. My son and daughter-in-law provide a place where love lives. She is blessed but doesn’t know it yet. I accept the warmth of her hand and revel in her innocence.

When my husband and I close the door and say goodbye, our little one cries. The reality of the outside world appears occasionally. When another child grabs one of her toys. When sickness appears. When fun ends too soon.

We will come back. In person. In the flat space known as facetime. The fullness of reality will arrive slowly. Hatred, pain, destruction, are real. Yet, when I look into her eyes and savor her personality, I want her to be a fresh, simple toddler forever.

Not every child knows the blessings our granddaughter lives. I consider the outgrown clothing I have in a drawer and realize they need a home.

If only I could pull an infant shirt from a drawer, put it in a bag for a child who needs it and say, “all done.” In the meantime, I celebrate what I have, do what I can for somebody else, anyone else, and let time do what it will. Perhaps somehow, I will grow up, too, and understand the difference between peace and pieces.

 

 

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Autumn and Peace

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , on November 23, 2021| 1 Comment »

hand warmer

The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.
Maya Angelou, All God’s Children Need Traveling Shoes

 This moment happened weeks ago, but I recall it now as the wind threatens to chill me from my ears all the way down to the tips of my toes. Winter is inevitable.

November 2, and my hands are begging the sun to appear soon. I’m outside the polls with others who care about the needs of the people. My fellow workers bring warmth, even laughter. But they can’t defy the whims of Mother Nature.

I smile at everyone who comes through whether they show interest in what we offer or not. Some are cordial. Only a few are not. A gentleman arrives with a box. Inside are treats and something even more welcome. Glove warmers.

“They are for anyone,” he says. He does not ask whether we cheer red or blue or some strange version of purple.

The sun arrives on time. Gold, orange, and red shine in the trees. The leaves will not be there forever. “None of us claim infinite youth,” I say. And my comrades laugh. They are not youngsters either.

Warmth, it comes from both the inside and the outside. Perhaps someday Maya Angelou can speak for all—a safe place for citizens who put both feet forward onto the blacktop here because the individuals who were voted in, took their positions as missions, not a stance or a power. This will take a lot of time in this fractured country. I pray it happens whether I am on this earth anymore or not.

Autumn and peace. I watch the leaves fall. And pray space opens for people to live truth.

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The Pond: A Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , on August 27, 2021| Leave a Comment »

Park pic

Know that everything is in perfect order whether you understand it or not. (Valery Satterwhite)
THE POND

A deer lay dead in this pond last winter,
bloated, white as the ice-spotted hills.
The carcass froze, demise unknown,
while the frigid water licked its sides
until the body could be hauled to shore.
Now, a late summer breeze
remembers nothing of snow,
and warmed water fills in the emptied space.
My spirit longs to plunge under the surface,
to swim with the schools of tiny fish
under the water lilies,
to sing with the frogs,
and smell the algae and rotting things
until it finds the secret of water,
that accepts whatever space it is given.
Frozen, heated, evaporated,
eventually it becomes a pond again,
that accepts the dead and feeds the living
without question.

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Pool Water, A Metaphor for Peace

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , on April 17, 2021| Leave a Comment »

pool_LI

Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. (Martin Luther King Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches)

A few jumps in cool pool water and my moving body feels warmer. The water temperature hasn’t changed. I have.

Aerobics class begins. Participants exercise in rows, five to six persons in each section. Different ages and backgrounds. I chat with a woman my age about our years in similar classes. Septuagenarian status and exercise are the few bonds we share. Politically we could be on separate continents.

“She talks to us,” she says to her companion. The word us is understood without explanation. Her friend is more rigid in her position than my chatting counterpart. I don’t respond. Left and right. Why can’t we communicate? Why do labels need such sharp edges? Why can’t the pool water warm all realms of thought?

I banter with my companion. I don’t argue. I don’t throw pebbles at a brick wall and expect the wall to shatter, to transform into a mirror.

Answers. I am not sure they come in words. Love isn’t pure sweetness. It is more like dark chocolate. It needs a bitter side to be real. Unfortunately, life doesn’t come with a recipe. Show what is right rather than jabber about it. The child who never learns consequences begins life empty.

One more day. Open ears, but never an integrity compromise.

A few more jumps in the pool. I am comfortable here. The temperature of the water remains the same. It doesn’t need the same level of change as individuals who touch it. And then, perhaps, touch one another…

 

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I Left My Phone in the Car: A Prose Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , on November 19, 2020| Leave a Comment »

The only thing worse than being blind is having sight and no vision. (Helen Keller)

My friend wears her mask over her nose, mouth—and eyes. I don’t comment. She’s blind. It doesn’t matter. I lead her to the hospital’s elevator and through registration. We wait. I suddenly realize

I left my phone in the car. I feel lost without it.

Sun shines through pale beige shades half-drawn along ample windows. The walls wear the same color and light. I try to embrace the moment. The gift of sight. The reason why I give to my friend.

But I left my phone in the car. I feel lost without it.

A medical assistant calls my friend’s name. Only patients are permitted in treatment rooms. I have time to think. To meditate while she meets with her doctor. Instead I bi-locate, tri-locate inside possibilities that will never be

because I left my phone in the car. I feel lost without it.

I find a single scrap of paper. And write. Absorb the moment. What gift is happening now? I breathe in and out. Slowly. My thoughts. Focused one moment, gone the next

because I left my phone in the car. I feel lost without it.

My friend returns. She leaves the aide’s arm and reaches for mine. Communication. Find the difference between sight and vision, want and need.

My friend and I talk. About the trivial, about memories that have lasted. “We’ve had a lot of red lights on this street,” my friend says. She is right. Aware, yet not stuck in the waiting.

My phone rests, messages on hold. Finally, I accept each bite of time. And swallow.

Kaleidoscope, mask and cell phone

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I, Alphabetically Speaking, a Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , on November 13, 2020| 2 Comments »

Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself. (Rumi)

Now that I am aware that others know suffering, joy, pain, and every other human feeling the same way, I work with softer weapons. They never hit a target and rarely claim immediate results. However, love and compassion have unexpected side effects. May those side effects explode outside the form of a poem.

first published in For a Better World

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The Two Wolves, Light and Dark

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , on October 29, 2020| 2 Comments »

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.

“It is a terrible fight, and it is between two wolves. One is evil—he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The other is good—he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you—and inside every other person, too.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?” The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.” (Cherokee legend)

This year has had nothing to do with twenty-twenty vision. Not yet. Perhaps recognizing dark and light within, can help root out the angry wolves inside me. May my flame be directed into light instead of uncontrolled, destructive fire.

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Lost—Again (a Poem)

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , on June 17, 2020| Leave a Comment »

Some beautiful paths can’t be discovered without getting lost. (Erol Ozan)

 

 

The directional app on my phone

remains mute, while the road twists

and my mind twists with it 

into places where I am lost, again.

 

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.

 

published in For a Better World 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

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