TAO

TAO

My thoughts today, or perhaps it is a poem, I shall have to wait and see:

Our voices: contentious, polarized,
as if our force expended, in any direction,
could somehow shift the balance into peace.

Let me stand in stillness
Following nothing, but the flow of my own breath,
acknowledging the perfection,
Sifting down from heaven like light.

I had forgotten
that it is not I who creates peace
nor I who must find every solution.
I have only to walk on the road that is given,
the one that appears before me,
when I follow my breath, instant by instant,
Into the future the creator has given me.

Anguish

I will never understand them,

never cease to fear them,

never find enough empathy

to accept their poisonous Indifference.

Indifference to the illness or death of a child,

because of their skin color or national origin,

to lead in the water of thousands,

to the callous destruction

of nature’s last sanctuaries.

It feels less like indifference than rage.

Like a murderous revenge,

a strike at those things accorded a beauty

they have never been able to feel.

A way to own, or at least deny others,

the use of anything, potentially an obstruction

to: their bottomless hunger, the burning lack,

the emptiness they try to fill, with imagined victory,

and an odd satisfaction in their ability

to evoke our grief.

Who will bring back the lost children,

the missing species, the reviled refugees,

the shriveled forests,

Or mend our kinship?

What will you feel

When your lies are exposed

and the damage is irretrievable?

to whom will you reach out

without finding everywhere

The anguish that is your legacy?