Out my window: my small world,
sky, clouds, forest, beauty. Inside
my small rooms: peacefulness,
gratitude, comfort.
I turn on the bigger world with the morning news:
bombs, hatred, division, suffering.
Suffering I can't change or ease.
I can't change the world, the poet laments,
so I practice opening my heart, walking
down the street heart first.
As if the world depends on it, she means.
Because it really does.
Because it really does.
I can do that, too: hello, beautiful brown-eyed
friendly dog, nosing my pocket for a treat.
Hello, small brave white plant, who came
from nowhere, suddenly blooming in my yard
in winter. Hello, forest trail, home of the wild ones
whose presence I feel hiding in your depths:
Hello, wild ones.
Hello, world, that wants we humans to wake up
and stop all the pain. Who needs us to dream
a better dream: of green abundance for all,
of no bombs falling, of people being fed,
of no animals suffering. Hello, world.
I am only one small voice, singing the song
of my people: Give Peace a Chance.
Respect Mother Earth.
Love one another.
Love one another.
Because the world depends on it.
And so do we.
And so do we.
Inspired by the poem "Because" by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. The italicized lines are hers.
You are indeed one small voice; but if all of the small voices sing, we have quite a 'chorus.'
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