I AM LISTENING

.....“It is I, evil. I am the true iniquity. Heed the colorless rage.”

Silence.

I could no longer hear the strange tongue.
It was less a language, more a breathless noise.

.....Hello? Hello? Hello? I am here. I am listening. Speak.

Silence, yet I could feel it reaching, pleading, breathing.

.....*Of the good in you I may speak, but not of your evil.
.....Wickedness is but your good tortured by its hunger, its thirst.

Silence.

A massive sea monster woven of fleece haunted my spirit,
Streaming banners praying for blood dangled from my thoughts,
Desiccated faces marched before the attendance of authority,
Weeping cities raised proud their flags and chanted breathlessly.

A throne made of water stood now before me and my abomination
And the war-tapped black sky began its ballet upon the forlorn moon.
Staggering and once proud men took flight in jets made of crumbs
And tumbled down- a hailstorm of counterfeit promises and iniquity.

.....I am here. I am listening. Speak.

Silence.

Copyright © 2006 mrp


To deepen your understanding of the poem read
Peacechick Mary's entry
It's Not Good, Nor Bad at
Knock Knock!

*Kahlil Gibran*

O! FOR THE CHILDREN, KAHLIL...

"Your children are not your children. They are
the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.”
Kahlil Gibran


O! Kahlil, you have shown the way
If we would but trace your shadow!

Let us carefully propel our children
Toward the seed of humankind,
We are merely the bow
From which they must take wing,
They are the blazing arrows
Of this globe’s ensuing design.

We must learn to permit our children
To craft their own shape and desire.
We may only point them toward the path
Of kindness and knowledge,
For their truth and chosen course
Were forged long before we imagined them.

Give to them of your knowledge
But do not expect them take it,
For they were born with their own splendor
Cuddled up at their feet,
They are made of flesh and bone
Not of an artist’s clay shaped by human hand.

We must tell our children of our own roads,
But let the one they brightly travel
Be of their life’s choosing.
We have set them toward the path
And gracefully propelled them,
It is now theirs to bestow upon it life’s breath.

Peace Artwork2 by my youngest daughter...