Much I desired when Youth did fire my veins, To join fair combat with some foe august; And more I dreaded sloth and creeping rust Than any meed of martyr scorns and pains. How would my heart beat quick at clarion strains; All to the God of battle would I trust– As one who, midst the hissing barbs and dust, From some swift Argive chariot flung the reins!
But now my pulse is slowed, my veins are cold, O Spirit of the leafage silver-green– Now let thy cool sweet shadow intervene, That I no more the strenuous day behold; So fold me, as the flocks that rest in fold, While Hesper makes the darkening sky serene.
The tempest calmed after bending the branches of the trees and leaning heavily upon the grain in the field. The stars appeared as broken remnants of lightning, but now silence prevailed over all, as if Nature’s war had never been fought. At that hour a young woman entered her chamber and knelt by her bed sobbing bitterly. Her heart flamed with agony but she could finally open her lips and say, “Oh Lord, bring him home safely to me. I have exhausted my tears and can offer no more, oh Lord, full of love and mercy. My patience is drained and calamity is seeking possession of my heart. Save him, oh Lord, from the iron paws of War; deliver him from such unmerciful Death, for he is weak, governed by the strong. Oh Lord, save my beloved, who is Thine own son, from the foe, who is Thy foe. Keep him from the forced pathway to Death’s door; let him see me, or come and take me to him.” Quietly a young man entered. His head was wrapped in bandage soaked with escaping life. He approached her with a greeting of tears and laughter, then took her hand and placed against it his flaming lips. And with a voice with bespoke past sorrow, and joy of union, and uncertainty of her reaction, he said, “Fear me not, for I am the object of your plea. Be glad, for Peace has carried me back safely to you, and humanity has restored what greed essayed to take from us. Be not sad, but smile, my beloved. Do not express bewilderment, for Love has power that dispels Death; charm that conquers the enemy. I am your one. Think me not a specter emerging from the House of Death to visit your Home of Beauty. “Do not be frightened, for I am now Truth, spared from swords and fire to reveal to the people the triumph of Love over War. I am Word uttering introduction to the play of happiness and peace.” Then the young man became speechless and his tears spoke the language of the heart; and the angels of Joy hovered about that dwelling, and the two hearts restored the singleness which had been taken from them.
At dawn the two stood in the middle of the field contemplating the beauty of Nature injured by the tempest. After a deep and comforting silence, the soldier said to his sweetheart, “Look at the Darkness, giving birth to the Sun.
Making Peace DENISE LEVERTOV
A voice from the dark called out, “The poets must give us imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar imagination of disaster. Peace, not only the absence of war.”
But peace, like a poem, is not there ahead of itself, can’t be imagined before it is made, can’t be known except in the words of its making, grammar of justice, syntax of mutual aid. A feeling towards it, dimly sensing a rhythm, is all we have until we begin to utter its metaphors, learning them as we speak. A line of peace might appear if we restructured the sentence our lives are making, revoked its reaffirmation of profit and power, questioned our needs, allowed long pauses… A cadence of peace might balance its weight on that different fulcrum; peace, a presence, an energy field more intense than war, might pulse then, stanza by stanza into the world, each act of living one of its words, each word a vibration of light—facets of the forming crystal.
PRAYERS FOR THE EARTH Pablo Neruda
For once on the face of the earth let’s not speak in any language. Let’s stop for one second and not move our arms so much. It would be an exotic moment without rush, without engines. We would all be together in a sudden strangeness.
Fisherman in the cold sea would not harm whales And the man gathering salt would look at his hurt hands. Those who prepare green wars,wars with gas,wars with fire, Victory with no survivors Would put on clean clothes and walk about with their brothers in the shade doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused with total inactivity, Life is what it is about. I want no truck with death. If we were not so single minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, Perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves And of threatening ourselves with death. Perhaps the earth can teach us when everything seems dead and later proves to be alive. Robert Hagan Art
Though the heart wear the garment of its sorrow And be not happy like a naked star, Yet from the thought of peace some peace we borrow, Some rapture from the rapture felt afar. GEORGE SANTAYANA,Premonition
Violence can only be concealed by a lie, and the lie can only be maintained by violence. Any man who has once proclaimed violence as his method is inevitably forced to take the lie as his principle. Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius — and a lot of courage — to move in the opposite direction. Albert Einstein
He who loves the bristle of bayonets only sees in the glitter what beforehand he feels in his heart. It is avarice and hatred; it is that quivering lip, that cold, hating eye, which built magazines and powder-houses. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Compassion Wingmakers Angels must be confused by war. Both sides praying for protection, yet someone always gets hurt. Someone dies. Someone cries so deep they lose their watery state.
Angels must be confused by war. Who can they help? Who can they clarify? Whose mercy do they cast to the merciless? No modest scream can be heard. No stainless pain can be felt. All is clear to angels except in war.
When I awoke to this truth it was from a dream I had last night. I saw two angels conversing in a field of children’s spirits rising like silver smoke. The angels were fighting among themselves about which side was right and which was wrong Who started the conflict?
Suddenly, the angels stilled themselves like a stalled pendulum, and they shed their compassion to the rising smoke of souls who bore the watermark of war. They turned to me with those eyes from God’s library, and all the pieces fallen were raised in unison, coupled like the breath of flames in a holy furnace.
Nothing in war comes to destruction, but the illusion of separateness. I heard this spoken so clearly I could only write it down like a forged signature. I remember the compassion, mountainous, proportioned for the universe. I think a tiny fleck still sticks to me like gossamer threads from a spider’s web.
And now, when I think of war, I flick these threads to all the universe hoping they stick on others as they did me. Knitting angels and animals to the filamental grace of compassion. The reticulum of our skyward home.
Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light. Norman B. Rice
Adopt the pace of nature. Her secret is patience. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Spring ushers in the birth and growth of new beginnings. Summer develops and matures new life in the warmth of light. Fall celebrates life and displays inspiration through color. Winter then rests and builds for the new day, preparing for the next season. jaren L. Davis
Maintain composure in times of heightened emotion, reacting only when thoughts are calm and clear. Being sensible will open doors for solutions and creativity. Jaren L. Davis
The Nation, which indulges towards another an habitual hatred, or an habitual fondness, is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest. Antipathy in one nation against another disposes each more readily to offer insult and injury, to lay hold of slight causes of umbrage, and to be haughty and intractable, when accidental or trifling occasions of dispute occur. Hence frequent collisions, obstinate, envenomed, and bloody contests. The Nation, prompted by ill-will and resentment, sometimes impels to war the Government, contrary to the best calculations of policy. The Government sometimes participates in the national propensity, and adopts through passion what reason would reject; at other times, it makes the animosity of the nation subservient to projects of hostility instigated by pride, ambition, and other sinister and pernicious motives. The peace often, sometimes perhaps the liberty, of Nations has been the victim. George Washington
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns To a destination where all signs tell us It is possible and imperative that we learn A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it To the day of peacemaking When we release our fingers From fists of hostility And allow the pure air to cool our palms
we come to it When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean When battlefields and coliseum No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters Up with the bruised and bloody grass To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
When the rapacious storming of the churches The screaming racket in the temples have ceased When the pennants are waving gaily When the banners of the world tremble Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
we come to it When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders And children dress their dolls in flags of truce When land mines of death have been removed And the aged can walk into evenings of peace When religious ritual is not perfumed By the incense of burning flesh And childhood dreams are not kicked awake By nightmares of abuse
When we come to it Then we will confess that not the Pyramids With their stones set in mysterious perfection Nor the Gardens of Babylon Hanging as eternal beauty In our collective memory Not the Grand Canyon Kindled into delicious color By Western sunsets
Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji Stretching to the Rising Sun Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor, Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores These are not the only wonders of the world
When we come to it We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace We, this people on this mote of matter In whose mouths abide cankerous words Which challenge our very existence Yet out of those same mouths Come songs of such exquisite sweetness That the heart falters in its labor And the body is quieted into awe
We,this people, on this small and drifting planet Whose hands can strike with such abandon That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness That the haughty neck is happy to bow And the proud back is glad to bend Out of such chaos, of such contradiction We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When we come to it We, this people, on this wayward, floating body Created on this earth, of this earth Have the power to fashion for this earth A climate where every man and every woman Can live freely without sanctimonious piety Without crippling fear
When we come to it We must confess that we are the possible We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world That is when, and only when We come to it.
Better than a thousand Hollow words Is one word that brings peace. Better than a thousand Hollow verses Is one verse that brings peace. Better than a hundred Hollow lines Is one line of the law, Bringing peace. It is better to conquer yourself Than to win a thousand battles; Then the victory is yours.
Dance! Sink your fingers into the earth taste the delicacy of the herbs Feel the suffering of the world and send out love in return Until the pulse of life…throbs within…
and you ARE the creation and destruction of the universe With each solider going into war each refugee wondering where home is Each child dancing in the rain or starving, no energy to move Or playing, running with a pack of kids in a park or falling and crying for Ma or staring in wonder at a birthday cake aflame with candles and presents beyond…
Dance… with the elder, sitting wisely in state or the one sitting cold, hungry, lonely and in pain With the businessman barking into his cell phone as he strides forth with his briefcase With the mother, wailing, holding the bullet-ridden body of her son amidst the street’s rubble
Dance… with the lava, flowing in the dark moving, congealing, spreading its fiery river With each star spiraling out in expanding galaxies and the drop of rain falling into the Pacific Ocean With the rabbit, bounding across the plain, suddenly snatched up and torn apart by the eagle’s talons
Dance… with the lovers, tangled, sweaty, heaving lost in each other’s eyes, united with the universe With the father, lovingly standing strong against his young son, who he will see grows into a man With the board member, feeling into each personality and figure with her heart, mind and body even as she runs a meeting
Dance! With each texture, sound and taste of a moment letting it engulf you, feel you, inspire you, breathe you Dance Life, my love, dance
May it take a moment Or a lifetime To truly feel the texture of a child’s hair against your cheek to fully embrace the pain of your breaking heart until it cracks open Until you laugh so hard your stomach is one big clench and tears run free down your face Dance
We often think of peace as the absence of war, that if powerful countries would reduce their weapon arsenals, we could have peace. But if we look deeply into the weapons, we see our own minds- our own prejudices, fears and ignorance. Even if we transport all the bombs to the moon, the roots of war and the roots of bombs are still there, in our hearts and minds, and sooner or later we will make new bombs. To work for peace is to uproot war from ourselves and from the hearts of men and women. To prepare for war, to give millions of men and women the opportunity to practice killing day and night in their hearts, is to plant millions of seeds of violence, anger, frustration, and fear that will be passed on for generations to come. Thich Nhat Hanh, Living Buddha, Living Christ
Do not think the knowledge you presently possess is changeless, absolute truth. Avoid being narrow-minded and bound to present views. Learn and practice nonattachment from views in order to be open to receive others’ viewpoints.” To me, this is the most essential practice of peace. Thich Nhat Hanh, Living Buddha, Living Christ
From time to time, to remind ourselves to relax and be peaceful, we may wish to set aside some time for a retreat, a day of mindfulness, when we can walk slowly, smile, drink tea with a friend, enjoy being together as if we are the happiest people on Earth. Thich Nhat Hanh, Being Peace
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