Edwin Markham

Outwitted by Edwin Markham
He drew a circle that shut me out -
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout,
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle and took him in!

miércoles, 24 de diciembre de 2014

Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem By Dr. Maya Angelou

Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem
By Dr. Maya Angelou


Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses.
Flood waters await us in our avenues.

Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and grey and threatening.

We question ourselves.
What have we done to so affront nature?
We worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?

Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.

It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner.
Flood waters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.

Hope is born again in the faces of children
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,
Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.

In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
It is loud now. It is louder.
Louder than the explosion of bombs.

We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.

We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.
Come and fill us and our world with your majesty.
We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian,
Implore you, to stay a while with us.
So we may learn by your shimmering light
How to look beyond complexion and see community.

It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.

On this platform of peace, we can create a language
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.

At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues at the coming of hope.
All the earth's tribes loosen their voices
To celebrate the promise of Peace.

We, Angels and Mortal's, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation.

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.”

domingo, 7 de diciembre de 2014

Downtown Talca 2010

Today, as I was working on the trauma healing project:  Roots in the Ruins: Hope in Trauma, I remembered the Feb. 27th, 2010 Earthquake....

Downtown Talca after the Earthquake

I walked downtown today
as I have countless times before,
crossing the main square to the post office
then heading up South One, the shopping street.

Weaving in and out, avoiding
people columned like dominoes
round the corner and
up the steps into the bank.
The lady selling band aids,
out-shouts other vendors,
and beggars,
and the music escaping from shops
to gulp down the morning breath of
coffee or fried food.
The policeman with the police dog watch
just like any other day.

It brings me up short.
I twist my head, ears straining
To fill in what is missing
behind the familiar noise…
Deafening silence.

I walk a little further and
stop.
I perceive
past the cacophony of
normalcy…
Screaming silence.

My heart skips
a beat
or two.

I, the one who loves silence,
   who pursues quiet
   like the photographer who seeks
   the prized instant
   when the shutter snaps and
   freezes time,
am frightened.

While others weep before the walls fallen,
  the holey roofs imprisoned behind the
  barrier of red warning tape,
  and the buildings condemned by orange
  spray paint crossing out another burial site,
I am engulfed by the
raging silence.

Two blocks, then three; and
silence hunts me down, a mountain lion
intent on its prey. My legs stay but my pounding
heart runs away, failing  gallantly
to imagine the stolen sounds
that left behind the
vacuum.

I turn into a busy street,
welcoming as never before,
the hum idling at a stoplight,
the screech of brakes,
the roar of revving motors, that
drown out the
silence
of downtown Talca after the
earthquake.

Elena Huegel
March 24, 2010