Washington D.C, 1947/Paris, 2015—Living Life In Peace

Washington D.C, 1947/Paris, 2015—Living Life In Peace

Thinking of the thousands of lives which have

ended unnaturally over the past decade,

and now at this late date,

the dozens gunned down and blown up

in Paris.

The door has been closing

for over fifty years,

from that summer,

pen in hand of the elected politician,

power of the people vested.

Suddenly dozens of crows lift from a nearby tree,

a mini-cacophony in their cawing,

the Sun seen to flash off black wings

against the blue, even in the distance;

beauty so far removed

from the darkness across the ocean,

the other side of Earth

we’re never allowed to see clearly.

To some it looks like crazy men

killing out of vengeance for not believing

what they believe,

to others a diabolical regime,

unseen and hidden behind half-truths

of conventional wisdom and the great

unknowable outside the system.

Will we ever be free—

meaning all of us at once—

meaning living life in peace?

For all we can do,

we believe in that possibility—

living life in peace,

living life in peace,

living life in peace.

Late Poems

(untitled)

Once you’ve heard them,

some quotes just seem to bob

there in the background

of mindfulness,

like so much flotsam/jetsam,

like one from a many years-ago interview

of a famous artist who said

without a flinch—

we’re here to break each other’s hearts.

(untitled)

There is life and there are mistakes,

some more hurtful than others,

and certain ones such that someone,

or two or more,

cry, and can’t sleep;

the color of life gone, gone away,

the harrowing, hollow gray, gray, gray.

Only words can restore the hue

you were used to before the universe

enfolded and removed;

the words “What I remember happening,”

and “that’s why I said and did that,”

must be tracked to the last detail

in order to convert a mistake

into that thing

no longer worth an ache,

and remind us why

an emotion ill-expressed

is not the focus.