In Her Wake

Fragmented lives,

And broken wholes,

False convictions wield the knives,

That ravage our multitude of souls.

Lives divided into mere moments,

A planet divided into grains of earth:

History leaves us but mere remnants,

Of an existence complete at birth.

That existence, now assailed and brittle,

By countless fools, attempting to besiege the hold of Cybele;

Blind to the truth that we cannot allege any chattel:

For we’re hers even snow-pale, stiff and silent, hers: utterly.

But we may yet let true life return,

If united in effort and imagination,

Combined forever to learn,

Respect and awe for all creation.

Blessed with an earth intact to love and hone,

Not a mosaic of lands upon which we lay our claim,

We are but one part of a whole, which we cannot own-

Care for all, the ground everywhere is ours- and the same.

Memorize that no war yet seen has rested arid,

With want for sweat, blood or tear;

And live, no union ever did-

Without a trace of gladness near…

Peace we summon,

And our need is great-

Peace we beg,

Redeem us of hate-

Peace we submit to,

Live in her wake:

Of light, song, beauty, calm and love.

* Cybele (Sibuhlee): The Phrygian goddess of nature of ancient Asia Minor.