I do not want this war.
This softness, I am.
I do not want this
war.
And yet, it flows
where peace seeks to be.
And yet, aggression is
somehow,
the twisted arm
of this peaceful river.
Must we simply flow?

I do not want this war.
This softness, I am.
I do not want this
war.
And yet, it flows
where peace seeks to be.
And yet, aggression is
somehow,
the twisted arm
of this peaceful river.
Must we simply flow?
Wherever I look,
someone is fighting.
It hurts the softness of me,
this world.
It takes and takes the peace
and I am so afraid to be torn apart
by another day of humanity.
The carnival of dark and dense
dis-ease.
Wherever I look
someone is fighting.
When will enough be enough?
What do I see when I see two sides at war?
I see the middle of it all. I see the hurt of both parties, and though I tend to take the side of whoever seems to have the most rational argument (according to my perspective) I can’t help but feel just…sadness. Absolute frustration, powerlessness and sadness.
I’m thinking specifically of this war that’s been raging in the U.S of late, both in terms of the political polarities tearing a hole in America, and in terms of the vastly differing socio-economic backgrounds and belief systems shaken up by the divided states of covid.
I’ve just come away from watching a video of the storming of the Capitol building. The video was clearly put together to support an agenda: a ‘Trump is horrible, and we are going to prove it by carefully constructing a highlight reel of the most shocking, heart-breaking scenes from the day.’ It worked. The video was shocking in its portrayal of Trump and his many loyal followers.
And yet, regardless of how well the video was crafted to sway public opinion to one particular side, there is no denying what happened that day was truly real. No denying the violence. No denying that this sort of primal aggression no longer belongs on the human stage: we’re not cavemen, anymore. Still, our primal instincts remain. How to healthily and peacefully honour them is a mystery yet to be solved by humanity, it seems.
As I watched the riot exploding all about the place, I took a side. I knew that I was taking a side, because I was thinking, ‘ How could they do this? This is so horrible. These people must be (insert judgment here.)’
But then it happened again. That thing that happens to me when I see an absolute wrong, and I ask myself more questions. But why are so many people screaming the same story, and how can so many people be wrong about what they believe? And how bad must their oppression have become for them to be behaving in such a dramatically inappropriate way?
It saddens me. All of it.
How on earth does a species overcome such drastically wide gaps in views and belief systems? How does a species become one harmonised species, rather than fifty billion tiny fragments of confusion, hatred and blame?
I don’t know.
So, I’m a little…I’m not sure what I am. I’m not sure frightened is the right word, and yet frightened really does seem to be the only word I can come up with in the face of all of this fight.
I do not condone the horrible horribleness (excuse my delightful eloquence, here) that occurred at the Capitol building that day, nor do I condone the hatred and inequality perpetuated by humanity, still. Oh my goodness, still. But what is there to do?
I don’t know what to do but surrender into the bleakness and just…hope. Hope that we can sort our stuff out before things get ever so much worse. Hope that humanity can find love and compassion, even in the face of absolute horror and ridiculousness.
Hope.
Hope that one day there will be peace.
Because all I’ve ever wanted was peace.
All I’ve ever wanted was peace.
I do not believe in seeking justice.
I believe in healing
and forgiveness.
I believe in walking
with humans
who are imperfect
like the rest of us.
Like the rest of us.
Imperfect.
Like the rest of us.
Like the rest of us.
In a world of fire, I am the stream.
Peace.
My heart wants nothing more, my soul wants nothing less.
I am tired.
So tired of the saddest story: well meaning fighters, fighting for good, creating the worst kind of bad.
I am tired.
Of the battle.
I do not need you to fight for me,
and they do not need you to fight for them
because those of us who have been broken are the wisest of souls.
We do not need to be saved.
We need peace.
We all need
peace.
War is what we have.
For now.
Is it worth these precious breaths?
This fight,
this blame,
this game?
Is it really so important?
People die
(people who are loved)
and still we take for granted
life.
And we fight,
and we blame
in this game.
It’s just a game,
just a bloody game.
Just
a bloody
game.
With these soft eyes,
I turn to the angry mob
and I speak.
I tell them to leave me be.
I tell them I want no part
in the way they raise their swords
and bring each other down.
I ask them to spare me their daggers.
They will not understand my requests.
They will see my silver sky and call it grey.
Still, I hope.
Still, I dream of a new day.
There will be
world peace
when we
humans
remove
the words
‘I believe’
from our vocabulary,
I believe.
I ache
for it all.
It is a war.
It is a world wide
war
announcing
the differing languages
of intolerance.
Dear sweet love,
give me a word.
Whisper me back when I drift
into the clouds above the sorrow.
For the days are long,
and the world is at war
without seeing or knowing it.
But I see.
I know.
So I am flying,
always toward the darling sun
of us.
Darling sun.
Give me the strength to see the war
and know my heart
will make it to a brighter tomorrow.