Writings
Practicing Peace: POEM OF THE MONTH
As the war in Iraq started, and for a year and a half after that, I was part of a small group of meditators who sat in silence once a week, on a busy intersection in West Lebanon, NH; rain, snow or shine. We had a sign saying "Practicing Peace." It was a powerful experience.
This poem was recently featured on poetsagainstthewar.org.
Practicing Peace
As the bombs began to fall
we were listening to waves of traffic
on Route 12a,
smelling hamburger fumes
and wet cold wind,
hearing Fuck Peace!
from souped-up cars.
As the bombs began to fall
we were feeling numbness grow
in our gloved hands,
losing sensation
in our crossed legs,
breathing in filth.
As the bombs began to fall
we were kindling silence,
breathing out
patience, practicing
peace.
As the bombs began to fall
we were altering the aura
of a corner.
As the bombs began to fall
we were ending
the war.
