“Ahimsa . . . “

Shall you raise your hand to strike,
O’man?
Shall you, O’woman,
Choose to slap your child
Because your day was not as planned?
Violence is a stone
The ego drops in a pond,
Rolling ripples of rage
We wield as a magic wand . . .
But it doesn’t solve
Or resolve
A single thing
Save ensuring we don’t evolve.
No magic,
Just tragic,
A misguided act of resolve.
All we want is a little shade,
Some shelter from the heat,
In anger we lash out to get it,
Ensuring our ultimate defeat.
Restrain the urge
That blurs
The heart of peace,
Or prepare the funeral dirge.
Violence begets violence,
Like blessings, a hundred-fold return,
Why not let it go
Before it’s too late to learn
And that which has been unleashed
Returns to you to burn?
White hot,
Insatiable,
Unconcerned.
Release peace,
That just makes sense.
What you send out will come back,
Be kind, and fear no recompence.

 

Rising Hawk

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