A
stillness in Gettysburg
a poetic libretto
A monument to freedom
—
yet the air, heavy,
whispered: "not for you …"
I
come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
—
Wendell Berry\
Invocation
I did not go to the fields that day,
though I know their paths well,
the quiet slopes where wheat once grew
and the earth holds its breath, waiting.
Men came, flags in hand,
carrying a story of fear —
a story the land does not know.
The monuments stood as they always have,
worn by weather and wind,
guarding no one, asking nothing.
I wonder how we could forget
that the ground itself is patient.
It keeps no memory of hatred
but knows the weight of footsteps,
the way the roots hold tight
to all that we leave behind.
I stayed home, far from the noisy boys,
and looked to the hills where nothing moves,
where the wind crosses unbothered,
where the land remembers what we forget:
the quiet of an unplowed field
holds more truth
than all our shouting.
A moment of quiet stillness
Quiet calm, my soul.
Feel the slow breeze.
Let these washed eyes
dry. Be ready. Wait.
Let this stillness grow,
let the strength now,
let my petition rise,
find its way up …
… to Soar.
Between here and stillness
A defiant stillness
says No
In between the beats of chaos
a Rest
The silent door seems out-of-place
but Open
A defiant stillness
says Come
And right then
we See
some record of
existence
for others
to consider
perhaps not
insights, but
hints of
what it meant
to be human
a chilling stillness
nights growing longer
beneath dark foreboding clouds
a chilling stillness
"They were careless people,
… and let other people clean up the mess they had made."
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Stolen generation
I want to believe that people are good
that they have been kidnapped
by a selfish clown taking them
on a crazy journey just for
his own perverted entertainment.
I want it to be another fairytale
where everything ends happily
but you know all fairytales
never tell you what happens
to everyone perhaps everything
just happens again and again.
I want the chaos to go away
and the men who profit
from exploiting divided desires
crowds easily swayed by lies
masses charmed by manipulation.
I want the world to get off of
the circus carousel where
a crank calliope plays music of war
never ending wars and conflicts
that no one wins everyone loses.
I want peace don’t you think
we all want peace lasting peace
but grievance and resentment
clogging gears of natural order
feeding the worm of hate.
I search for that twilight moment
where humanity evacuates
to safety before the storm
I want to see sanctuary
before all is ruined and lost.
O fire in my soul
Do not burn out
O fire in my soul
O fire in my soul.
I can accept
the decline in my body
but I cannot endure
a coldness in my soul
O fire in my soul.
The light of the eyes
gone faint gone dim
as if the soul took flight
empty the house
the fireplace cold
O fire in my soul.
Winds of age
dementia or
whatever you are
which leaks my memory
it should not be it cannot be
O fire in my soul.
I still fear the lonely stare
the world cold hollow
O burning fire do not faint
I cannot bear the void
where nothing burns
O fire in my soul.
In the stillness
after the coldest wind
slowly drifting free
between death and shadow
as embers season calm
O deep fire in my soul.
just because they say so
If I were really honest
I would stay home most days
it's a mixed bag
of goodies and rotten things
in a world where
political leaders
give people permission
to be the worst among us
because they say
they follow the best
leader in the world.
I guess if I were in kindergarten again
I'd mourn the loss of safety
the bully that hit my face
would be joined by others
who would hit me and kick me.
I guess if I were in Sunday School
I'd feel the emptiness of what's been lost
they don't teach the Golden Rule
because it's for losers and the weak
not for winners and rulers of the world.
I guess if I were young again
I'd grieve the peace that's vanished
all of this chaos
became our new normal
in a world forever at war.
just because they say so
just because they say so
I guess if I were young again
I'd grieve the peace that's vanished
all of this chaos
became our new normal
in a world forever at war.
just because they say so
I guess if I were in Sunday School
I'd feel the emptiness of what's been lost
they don't teach the Golden Rule
because it's for losers and the weak
not for winners and rulers of the world.
just because they say so
I guess if I were in kindergarten again
I'd mourn the loss of safety
the bully that hit my face
would be joined by others
who would hit me and kick me.
just because they say so
If I were really honest
I would stay home most days
it's a mixed bag
of goodies and rotten things
in a world where
political leaders
give people permission
to be the worst among us
because they say
they follow the best
leader in the world.
just because they say so
It's about wonderful and astonishing Soap Bubbles
tender soap bubbles
how do you manage to float
so effortlessly
fragile spinning flights
wild aerial adventures
spontaneity
landing with a pop
far far from where bubbles spray
a journey lived free
Pause and behold the morning glories
Take a breath
hold it
let it out
slowly.
Pause
and rest
in the wake of
that breath.
Did that help
with your
hesitation?
Can you
move
forward?
The easiest
answer is
No.
When things are easy
the answer is
Yes.
When we pause
the answer is
Not now
Can we
do That
Again?
This time
with the
morning glories.
I closed my eyes
Sad to think
that the coughing child
could become the source
of a new pandemic
we would be luckier
with a crying child
screaming all through
the flight to Japan.
I closed my eyes
I really wanted to, but
I heard the snoring man, but
the girls talked in a foreign language, but
the roaring air conditioning, but
the Boeing 787 groans in air turbulence, but
the unknown unwanted sounds, but, but, but …
I closed my eyes
because I really wanted
I swear, but
with all those distractions
I forgot what it was
what I really wanted to do.
closed eyes folded
hands
rising volume of the world
I fade into sleep
As sleep turns into dreams
the world transforms ...
The coughing child no longer sick
now running through the park
her laughter filling the air.
The snoring man at a table
his family gathered around him
sharing stories in a Tokyo café.
The girls by the seaside
best friends since birth
whispering secrets in the wind.
The airplane soaring above
carrying us across vast distances
connecting lives and places.
After I woke I realized hope
and wonder still existed
in our imperfect world.
opened eyes folded
hands
the world returns and I see
beyond surface noise
Driftwood
“mono no aware”
– Japanese aesthetic for beauty
present in fleeting, sorrowful impermanence
I feel more
out of place in the land
of my ancestors
the foreigner asking
where do I belong if not here?
When my grandparents left
they forged a new path
no future in Japan
they didn’t look back.
There is much beauty
in this place
but I will never
belong here
nor understand
“mono no aware”.
When I am dead
do not spread my ashes
in this country
my soul would wander aimless
never touching ground
and echoes speak
in words I failed to learn.
If you find my ashes
place me somewhere safe
not in a place of prominence
nor in such a way to be lost
I did try to belong.
Am I alone?
A stillness in Gettysburg
I was drawn to Gettysburg
by the quiet pull of history,
to this hallowed ground
where men gave their lives,
where Lincoln spoke in simple grace,
and the Union held fast.
Yet many come seeking to glorify the war,
to revive the Lost Cause,
believing in the prophecies
that the South shall rise again
to defeat the alien invasion.
I wondered if my American birthright
was theirs to claim or cast aside,
for I looked more alien like people,
they said stole everything from the citizens.
Fearing the unease of division,
I stepped back from the sacred soil,
for the peaceful visit seemed elusive.
And yet somewhere
in the dawn
after the mist
of night had lifted
the field was quiet
with rising breezes
bringing kind invitation
an invitation to stillness.
all chaos, all fatigue, all hunger,
if we are fortunate, if grace finds us,
the air will feel safe, our bodies relax.
we find the air grows gentle, opens wide,
for just a second, moments sweet and slow,
a stillness found, reflected in each face.
only the quiet of this breath,
this brief and holy pause,
before the world spins again.
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