I remember when being idealistic earned a young person a sympathetic smile and a pat on the head. Once he or she had finished school, though, such an outlook was considered impractical, and looked upon almost as threatening behavior. Making money was the thing. Impressing the neighbors. Getting ahead. Buying insurance. It was better to fit in and have a heart attack than it was to be comfortable in one’s conscience, even if it meant being poor. It was better to vote, go to church, and win all the wars.
What would happen if, at this very moment,
everyone in the world were to stop what they were doing,
look up, and softly say the word Peace?
Imagine billions of lips and tongues forming the word
in dozens of miraculous languages.
Imagine billions of ears, hearts, and minds devoted to its sound.
In an instant, the world would be forever changed.
Such is the power we hold — to say a word,
and to have that word become the breeze itself.
How strange it is to know this, and yet still to be afraid.
How sad it is, and unbefitting, to pray while we destroy.
Songs and Letters, April 7, 2006
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Categories: Songs and Letters
Tags: Idealism, Memory, Peace, Poems, Poetry, Politics, Religion, War