POEMS OF GRATITUDE AND PEACE : by SARAH, MARGARET AND SUSAN

For this first Monday of a brand new year, we are bringing you poems of gratitude and peace, written by Sarah Russell, 
Margaret Bednar and Susan Chast. We hope you all had a wonderful holiday season, however you chose to spend it, and we look forward to sharing another year of poetry with you. Yay! Let's dive right in!

HOME

Late afternoon in the valley, the trees
wear halos. Then twilight steals the sun,
kitchen lights blink on like stars,
and coming home is a sigh
and the smile of someone waiting.
Your day is told in half sentences
and nods and questions answered —
nothing new, but new enough to tell again.
After supper, after gin rummy and pages
turning and the rhythmic click of a sweater
growing row by row, bed greets you
like a childhood friend, and sleep
keeps company with the blue black sky
and the owl’s whispered flight.

Sherry: This is so lovely, Sarah. It exudes contentment.

Sarah: Thanks so much for wanting to include my poem.  Here’s the backstory:

After an unsuccessful marriage and some frogs who weren’t princes, I met my soulmate. We’ve been together 30 years. My heart still skips a beat when I hear his car in the driveway. “Home” is a testament to a quiet life with someone you love.

Sherry: Well, you are a lucky girl. And, having something to compare it to, you know just how fortunate you are. Smiles. I relish love stories like yours.

Margaret penned a poem around the same time with a similar realization. Let's take a peek:

      

Gratitude

It’s the lull between the flame and the last ember,

the quiet of the buttercream sky before the blazing sun 
sinks low.

the spark in your eye before the laughter.

As a child we’d slip on our coats not bothering to button,

slip into Dad’s boots, trudge quickly toward woodshed

through shovel-wide snow path, 

collect tinder we’d gathered since spring,

rosy cheeked, return, feed wood-burning stove,

jockey for position beside cats and dogs.

Mesmerized we’d watch the flames take off, 

roar and snap as Dad loaded the logs, 

added paper for our oohs and awes.

We felt safe, happiness being together,

warm, popcorn and cider a treat, 

tossing a kernel or two to dislodge the dogs.

When I parade myself along the shore, 

watch the luminous sky combust and spread its glow 

along the horizon devouring sky’s blues and whites,

I feel a warmth akin to my fireside idles; my heart swells, 

feels twice as large, seemingly the cause for the tears 

that balance precariously but rarely spill.  

Happy tears, not sad, they fill me up

and, like the fireside embers,

kindle a well-being 

that rivals only the flicker of laughter

I spy in your eyes as you respond

to something I say, something I do,

an all consuming love that leaves me rosy cheeked,

grateful for the fire that still burns.

Sherry: How wonderful, that fire that still burns! I know that feeling of happy tears. Sheer gratitude. Beautiful, Margaret.

Margaret: I’ve lately been reflecting upon life, my blessings, thinking I need to appreciate the small, lovely things that occur everyday that we take for granted, a sunset, memories of childhood, and of course, my husband of almost 29 years.  The “fire” poetic prompt from dVerse Poetics somehow melted these three together… 

Sherry: And so perfectly! Thank you for sharing it.

Susan wrote a spectacular poem before Christmas, on the topic of peace. I thought it a fitting topic to start the new year off with. Heaven knows the earth is crying out for it on every side.

Good Morning

Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs

The Creator gave to me when I

And the tree and stone were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow

And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.

~ Maya Angelou, from “On the Pulse of the Morning”

(The Rock Cries Out To Us Today)

Sing with me.  Someone said to sing, and I cannot sing alone.

Sing, said the voice, “It’s now time to sing Peace on Earth.”

I’ve seen peace hide in my cook pot and in your bed. 

Good Morning.  

Sing Peace out into the open where it belongs.

No time to discover where the voice originates.  It is—

or it isn’t. Let’s sing, not knowing.  Let’s sing Peace.

Drones will drop from the sky in the instant.  Border guards will put down their guns and lend a hand to those who need help.

Apples, cheese and sunflower seeds will erase hunger.  Water

will stream clear and potable in roadside ditches.

Sing, sing.  See how safely welcome opens doors.  See how ceilings hold when bombs stop flying.  See children stop crying.

Sing ourselves into hope.  Believe it is now time to sing Peace

on Earth.   Sing in tune or out of key.  Both will do.

We’ve waited for our cue, and here it is. Now.  Peace on Earth.  Now.

Lift on the song, spondee or anapest. Peace On.

Earth Peace. On Earth. Peace On. Earth Peace. On Earth.

Peace on Earth.  

Is it rising like sun at dawn?  Like moon and tides?

Is it rising invisible like ghosts or winds, that movement

reveals?  Let’s sing into movements, sing unto life.

It’s a good morning, indeed, when we wake ready and willing   

to bring peace out of hiding and make it flourish.

***

The Voice was Sumana's Prompt--I quote it exactly without crediting her.  (Forgive me, Sumana.)  The title is the last line of  Maya Angelou's poem, also part of Sumana's prompt.  Between those two leading me on and the part of Angelou's poem above my words, what else could I write?  I was simply following directions!  What does the poem mean to you?

Sherry: As I read it, I began to feel hopeful and inspired. In just this way, peace IS possible, doable……….when we can't solve the big things, we can practice and extend peace and kindness in the small daily routines of our lives. You have given us a blueprint in this poem. I love it.

Thank you, Sarah, Margaret and Susan, for starting us off on another year of sharing poetry with such fine poems. You inspire us!

Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!