Backstory: A poetess, Mimi Allin, posted this question on Facebook (a question which, I think, all creative people face):
,
“There is no Christmas in Bethlehem this year.
The tours and pilgrimages have all been cancelled. The streets are bare, the shops empty.The Palestinian residents are in mourning. Celebrations have been replaced with a somber peace vigil and prayer service to mourn for the tens of thousands of people—mostly Gazans, mostly women and children—lost in the Israeli-Hamas conflict.The traditional nativity scene at the Evangelical Lutheran church depicts baby Jesus on a pile of rubble, rather than resting in a manger. Instead of gifts, the wise men carry burial shrouds.Ask anyone in Bethlehem this year what their Christmas wish is, the answer will be the same: they pray for peace.Whether Christian, Jewish, Muslim, a follower of some other tradition (or no religion at all), may we join their prayers.May we affirm together that we are all worthy of dignity and love…That divinity makes it way to earth, hidden in human form…That the Kingdom of God yearns to flourish within each of us…And that the best gift we can ask for is the gift of peace for all.May we practice peace within ourselves…Within our families and communities…
And pray that, one day, we will beat swords into plowshares.”
OR
*bring/
peace to others, too.
[Context: We were walking through the woods and fields, doing Nature Observation at Spirit Tree Farms with some folks from out-of-town. As I riffed this haiku, I made these notes:
As we set about finding peace in Nature, it’s always a good time (both to do it, and to be had).
What’s amazing is that, as you share it, others feel it, and thank you for the experience.]
On a lonely field,
my neighbor’s light reminds me
of peace and the why.
Dark chocolate! YUM!
In times of crisis/
and fear, don’t hoard toilet rolls. /
Find peace. Buy chocolate.
625 pounds of chocolate. Carried by muscle man NP.
My evening yawp at/
the setting sun was his dog’s/
name. Veruuuuuuuuuuuuuuca! Peace.
This is not what I
expected or wanted. Where’s the
Peace? Must I bring it?
Ten-plus deciduous,
mixed with a few evergreens:
more than a dozen
shade-givers are seen
from my back window
in the sunset’s glow.
All wrapped as she plays
improv piano.
Life’s good,
and you grow,
when nature’s understood,
and when you know.
It’s not knowledge gained by some parchmented degree.
It’s what people, plants, air, earth, water, life, daily give to me.
