05 Nov Peace
This poem was for peace day, which should rightly be every day of course. Let’s make it for today therefore
I have seen the world; I have seen that which dies,
The desperate hurt that opens raw with the night,
I have smelt the scent of pain, such sweet forgetting,
Carrying dreams that are of another place, where
All is perfect, where all is peace. And here I fall,
Here where the world collides, and I meet hate and
Hell and the fury of that which is buried, deep within.
We cherish this, you and I, like abandoned children
Shameful within our skin. And we share this great
Knowing, as if eating scraps from a rich man’s table,
Hungry, desperate, facing away our vulnerability.
And yes, we dream of perfection, and so it is that we
Speak, full of wise words that echo in the emptiness,
But it is not here where we find peace, not in these words,
Not in our great thoughts, not in our rightness, not in
This world that we see. And then we all fall, as we must,
Oh we fall, lost beyond pretending, scared in our dying,
And we die…we die into our hearts. And we are reborn,
again and again, into this silence. And here is nothing,
And in this nothing we are free…and the world is peace.