Fragment #62 (Batter Up!) . . . “

Martin Luther King, Jr.
is gone,
Gandhi and Mother Theresa, too,
the Dalai Lama is still around
but let’s face it,
the giant voices of compassion
are increasingly few.
That leaves me . . .
and you.
What will I do?
What will you do?
What will WE do?

 

“Course Correction . . . “

The
immensity
of the the thing,
a profound
responsibility,
so much so
there comes a
propensity
to let it go,
a reflexive response to the
intensity
of the fear.
What would happen
if you grabbed hold
to steer?
Once grasped
you would become
ineffably
responsible for it all;
where you are,
where you’re going,
to what you set your hand
and what you’d rather be doing.
The
immensity
of the
responsibility
of choice.
Easier to blame,
to leave things the same,
to not bear the weight
for the result of the game.
There’s always next year,
right?
Maybe . . .
or it could end tonight.
Isn’t it time
to grab that wondrous mind,
to be the one choosing
your life’s design?
I think,
perhaps,
just maybe,
it IS.

 

Rising Hawk

risinghawk

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“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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“Gentle As She Grows . . . “

Not very old when it happened,
A few years past a sapling,
She was out of line
A bit too far
From her many, cherished siblings
That stood in measured rows
Across the farm.
Like it was yesterday
She recalls
The day they pierced her,
With talk of “property”
And a wire that was barbed,
Confusion and pain
Like the first cut of puberty.
Still she grew tall and strong,
Her flesh covering over
The wire with the prongs,
Spreading her limbs wide
Over both sides,
With shade and fruit
That never failed to amaze
And the spiteful wire
Could do naught but rust away.
Now dropping her apples
On both the ugly and the good
She became a goddess, a queen
To the oaks of the distant woods,
Whispering to each other
As the breeze delivers her sweetness,
“Just look at her, old friends,
Is she not magnificent?”
And she bore no malice
Toward man nor beast,
So the wise oaks decided
That her name was “Peace.”

Rising Hawk

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“Welcome Friend! . . . ”

Have you ever shut out
One who was to be your friend,
A Divinely ordained support for you
Dismissed for religion, sex, or color of skin?

We miss so many chances
When chained to notions such as those,
Prejudices lacking legitimacy
Block friends, like stripping petals from a rose.

Gift everyone an open hand,
At least give them a shot,
They need a friend as much as you,
Shall we let them go for naught?

Just as family is defined by love,
Not blood,
Friendship is defined by souls that
Will stand with you against the flood.

 

Rising Hawk

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“A Trip Worth Making . . . “

“ Forget-Me-Not . . . “


 

Lonely I walked the castle halls
Like a spirit trapped ‘twixt times,
Even the strongest kingdom falls
With peace supplanted by war’s crime.
And here the crumbling, muted truth
Does tell the tale of broken youth.

For years the sun smiled brightly
On fields of blue and yellow blooms,
Joyful sounds of the noble and knightly
Danced heartily from every room.
But scarcely could one hear them now,
The ruins lay silent, honoring their vow.

Why would one come to such a place,
To find company among the ghosts?
What foolish mind doth deign to face
A grave seeking bodies to host?
Flowers are now blooming anew ’round this vestige of greed,
But should we forget what laid it low, it shall rise again to feed.

 

Rising Hawk

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“Make It Stop . . . “

 

Not even a mile from my home,
Three kids killed – total five dead,
Murder-suicide it’s said.
Sheer madness,
We’re out-of-our heads,
People getting angrier
Every day,
Not much else to say.
Emotional tools absent,
Too proud to ask for help,
So he put bullets into everyone,
Finishing with himself.
Ignorance sets us up
And pride pulls the trigger,
If we don’t teach a different way
The tragedies will just get bigger.
Peace,
Peace,
Peace . . .

 

 

Rising hawk

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“Slowly – But It Can Spread . . . ”

We all would prefer peace,
That’s a general fact.
And yet there isn’t one of us
Who wouldn’t fight back
If we or a loved one was
Physically attacked –
To the point of death
We would react.

For those moments in time
Peace would not be on our mind.
Take that to the scale of nations
And bloody war is what you find.

So then it becomes a question,
“How do we stop the predatory urge?”
How do we end aggression among a species
Where the ego will leap and surge?

We can’t force another to change,
A rarity even to alter how they think,
So it remains to our own selves
To keep peace in our hearts and hope
Some collective consciousness makes a link,
That somehow our example
Can pull the world from the brink.

It is a monumental task on a planet
Where some have, and others are determined to take.
But peace is worth the effort and the time
To see if there is a difference we can make.

 

Rising Hawk

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