How to Begin

 

Start with the dust on top of the bookshelves:

neglected for a time, one thing you can do

to make today better. Remember that you are

only one human. Forgive yourself for

not being able to fix a broken world.

But don't forget to add whatever light you can

to the living of your days and
what you offer to others. Wonder about

what a green and growing peaceful earth

would feel like. Know that, at least

in your one small yard, your silent rooms,

you can accomplish

peace.

A Wild Writing offering sparked by Catherine Abbey Hodges' poem "How to Begin."

Look For the Helpers

 

"Look for the helpers," a wise grandmother

once said. "In every disaster and calamity,

there they are, calm and kind,
hands reaching out,
doing what they can. No thought
of race or difference, just one human
being there for another."

Sometimes nothing can be done, when

disaster is beyond the scope of human

reckoning. But even then, hands and hearts

reach out, to soothe, to comfort, to hear

a whispered plea for a hand to hold.

All quiet healing is welcome.

In these times, heart heavy,

I walk soft-footed
on the earth.

I speak more gently.

I pray to deer and rabbit,

horse and dog,

to teach we humans

how to heal:

ourselves,

each other,

and a world in pain.

Inspired by Joseph Fasano's poem "The Healers". The italicized lines are his.

DREAMING IN GREEN (G is for Giraffe)

 

What are these walls and floors

where nothing grows?

What are these fences wrapped around us

keeping us from each other,

one on one,

when my Mama wants

to teach me how to run?

My Mama tells me stories of the savannah:

grasslands, where all my cousins run and play,

tall trees to nibble on,

an open sky...

Why are we not there, too?

I wonder why.

I love my Mama, and I love the sky,

but I need trees and grasses,

freedom I have never 

felt or seen,

no fences, lots of grass,

and so, when I dream,

in my wooden stall

at night,

my dreams are green.

The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), the gold standard for assessing endangerment, has found that giraffes are “vulnerable,” meaning they face a “high risk” of extinction in the wild. And for some of the nine subspecies, this risk is imminent. As of 2020, there were at least 579 captive giraffe at 103 zoos throughout North America and more than 800 in European zoos. Their lives are lengthened slightly by incarceration, but I am pretty sure they would prefer to run free on the savannah.

for Rajani's climate crisis series.   All the wild ones are feeling the impact of accelerating climate change.

Walking in Earth Shoes

Warren Rudd photo

Walking in earth shoes, I do not have to
venture far to feel Mother Earth's unease:

breathing smoke from the wildfires
feeling the grass crackle underfoot
noting the parched soil under the thirsty trees

I perform a water ceremony under the wilted rhodo,
its leaves all pointed downward, reaching for
moisture no longer there. Drops from
the watering can fall on the thirsty roots
like tears. We have been on water restriction 
since early May. We are watching so much
shriveling and dying.

please hold on till the rains come, we whisper

but we can't promise rain will come.
It is still warm and sunny in November.
Along the forest trail, huge swathes
of ancient cedar are gone, tall wooden walls
of housing rising on their graves.
Along the roadway, stumps are shoved
back into what's left; some trees turned into
ten foot trunks, with token fringe,
topped and limbed to make way
for new hydro lines above.

They call it Progress, but why so savage?
The neighbouring trees, thin and exposed,
dusty and wondering if they come next -
I feel their pain.

But, still, there is so much beauty everywhere.
I marvel: blue skies, waves
surging endlessly in to shore, 
a new baby orca with its mama, passing by.

Hard to know that, under this same sky,

climate refugees are on the move;
and now civilians, caught in the latest war,
mourn their loved ones, sobbing and desperate,
on our tv screens. We have not learned
to live together peacefully on this earth,
seeing "Other" instead of "Us".
Why is that so hard, when we all have
beating hearts that love to live?

So hard to watch oblivious First World ways
continue as if all is well;
so much denial, and entitlement:
annoyance at traffic interruptions -
the "inconvenience" of
forests aflame, that closed the roads
and stopped our frantic rushing
to and fro. Denial that the cost 
of capitalism is coming due.

The planet turns and burns,
and countries bomb each other.
It is grievous to have a human heart
in a world at war, where
people have forgotten that
the natural world is dying, too.

I put my earth shoes on,
find a green space in which to feel
mixed gratitude (for all that is)
and grief (for all we've lost
and are so swiftly losing.)
Is there a green space big enough
for this much sorrow?
Stay tuned.
I'll put my Earth Shoes on,
and try again
tomorrow.

 

for my prompt at What's Going On? Walking in Earth Shoes, which will post at 11 a.m. Eastern time on Wednesday.

I wrote this poem in summer when the fires were burning all over the province. Some are still burning, but the situation has impoved greatly. The fall rains  have just begun. I updated the poem to include this latest terrible war - so much suffering and death. My heart is having trouble holding all of it. Thank heaven for the forest and the beach! They save me. And they are asking us to save them in return.  Peace and light, my friends, our antidote in dark times.

Now and Then

 

Then, when you and I and the world

were young, the music was everything.

There they are, so young and alive,

riding the wave of their music

into the future. There we were,

back when we still dreamed of love,

before it hurt so much we gave it instead

to small children and dogs.

There are the ones still here: aging, grizzled,

with wise eyes, and here we are, aging too,

our memories reaching back to golden years

when music was the backdrop of our lives,

and all our dreams were sailing ships,

luring us from shore.

DONA NOBIS PACEM: 2023

 

TAKE THIS POEM

Take this beautiful morning,
this November sunshine,

this blue-sky day, with the song
of a thousand seabirds,

wheeling and circling
at the edge of the sea.

Take the eagle's cry,
from the top of the cedar,
as he surveys his kingdom.
Take the heron,
gliding past my window,
looking like a skinny matron,
purse clutched under
her wing.

Take the waves, rolling in like

white-maned horses, wave upon wave,

day after day - our own glimpse

of Eternity.

Take this moment, peaceful,
crisis-free, in the places
where you are;

breathe deep the ordinary, when

so much in this world is no longer

routine. Feel the peace
of nothing-going-on.

Let your prayers be prayers

of gratitude. May your tears

bless those living through

apocalyptic times.

(Our turn will come.)

Take this poem which

I offer you with open hands.

Take its wish that you

and all you love 

be blessed. Take my dream

of a green and flourishing earth.

Maybe if we share it,

some green tendrils

will begin to grow.

Take a break from the terrible

and disheartening news.
Let's walk our peace into the world,

step out into our front yards.

Let's lift our arms to
the cloud-dotted blue above,

the trees breathing with us in tandem,

such generous and benevolent beings.

Take this ordinary morning

into your heart and let it live there
all day long.
Take this poem,
like a prayer of peace,
into your very being.
Let it sing.

Cox Bay, Tofino, British Columbia
Canada

Today we peace bloggers once again send out our prayers for peace, in a world where bombs are falling. We find ourselves living in a world of "Other", instead of a world of "Us". Valarie Kaur reminds us to See No Stranger. She calls for a revolution of the heart. This resonates with me.

This year Mimi Lenox is asking us to contemplate the transforming power of walking in peace - being peace. This is more challenging than usual right now, where division is everywhere, and tensions are rising across the globe.

This poem was written before the latest war began. I offer it as a branch of the peace we all want. It is hard to find the words, even for someone who has written millions of words in her lifetime. We are taking too long to evolve. Yet somehow we have to hold onto hope that humankind can learn to live the ways of peace.

Thank you, Mimi Lenox at Blogblast for Peace, for once again sending our prayers for peace across the globe. We need it more every year! 

START WITH WHAT YOU LOVE

 

source

Maybe you find yourself heartsick, grief a lump
in your chest, and you do a checkup: health reasonable,
home peaceful, some food in the fridge. Then you
expand the circle: one son in a nursing home,
post-stroke, one daughter struggling to keep
her head above water, working too many jobs.

Then, wider still, and yes, here it is: bombs falling,
civilians suffering: innocent Israelis attacked
by terrorists and brutally slaughtered; desperate
Palestinian civilians living the hell of bombs
dropping, uncared for by their own government.
So much hatred, so much suffering, 
yet the bottom line: civilians, just people,
suffering, dying, starving, displaced.

One grows silent, not knowing  what to say,
for fear of angering one side or the other,
hearing and understanding the suffering
of both. And then being called out
for being wordless, when one is expected
to take a side, and one's "side" is humanity,
so often at the mercy of its leaders, including
here in North America.

A sick feeling that all is not well with the world:
anti-Semitism rising, anti-Muslim sentiment
rising, right-wing, trump cult, versus left wing
keepers of Democracy - everyone seen as Other, not as Us.
How to move forward in the world? Does it matter
if I clean the house or let the dust gather?
Does it help if I send some cash to my son
or a bag of dog kibble to my daughter? Does it help
when so many humans (and dogs)
are without food and water and the sky
is raining bombs?

Start with what you love, the poet said, so 
I go to the beach and watch the waves rolling in
under a blue sky, surfers riding the crests joyously,
happy dogs frolicking on the sand. I come home
to my peaceful rooms and remember
to be grateful. But I never forget that,
across the sea, bombs are falling,
a living hell for all in the right place but
at the wrong time. Knowing that,
even here, even now, as far away as North America,
things can always get worse.

Inspired by "Start With What You Love" by Laurie Wagner of Wild Writing.