Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
“May there be peace in the heavens, peace in the atmosphere, peace on the earth. Let there be coolness in the water, healing in the herbs and peace radiating from the trees. Let there be harmony in the planets and in the stars, and perfection in eternal knowledge. May everything in the universe be at peace. Let peace pervade everywhere, at all times. May I experience that peace within my own heart.” Yajur Veda 36.17)
At The BeZine when we discuss Waging Peace, we mean radical peace. We mean putting down weapons and using words. We are realists. We don’t envision a utopia. We do envision compromise, an imperfect peace but peace non-the-less.
Some of our contributors rightfully see Waging Peace as a path that starts with inner peace. Others were moved to bear witness, to raise consciousness, or to imagine a world at peace and some are inspired to suggest potential solutions.
It’s quite a package we gift you with today from poets and writers representing several of the world’s wisdom traditions and about ten countries including those of the U.K., Western Europe, Eastern Europe, the Indian Subcontinent, Africa, and the U.S.. Soul stirring. Thought provoking. Satisfying.
Thanks to all our contributors, to our core team members, and to the readers who are an important part of this effort. Please read, “like”, and comment. You – and your thoughts – are valued.
On behalf of The Bardo Group Begines
and in the spirit of love (respect) and community, Jamie Dedes
Founding and Managing Editor
“…whenever a new, especially successful form of an infection emerges, it will spread rapidly around the globe.” William H. McNeill, Plagues and Peoples
The current pandemic is a disquieting influence, but an influence it is. COVID-19 is inspiring dreams that are wishful, fearful, and often surreal. Such is Clarissa’s dream reported in this poem. It reflects the yearning, anxiety, and concern we all feel and, not unlike our experience of this pandemic, it contains elements of the surreal. / J.D.
Two wings touching
Dark and light
Not very opposite
Never did they fight
The archangels Raphael and Lucifer
Walked into a bar together
Both ordered Southern Comfort Rocks
Needing respite from frantic Root Workers
Overworked simplers and herbalists
Calling upon Raphael for assistance
In the healing of an ailing global populace
While Lucifer himself was busy with
Contracts multiplying each day
Contracts from desperate parents
Willing to pay anything
As long as their child lived
Giving him no pleasure because of
The sheer volume of sad work
They drank deeply and then
“As a healer, what do you think about me
Getting my tail surgically removed?
It’s an old image I want to escape
Along with the pitchfork. I mean, come on,
That old agrarian image just won’t work
I’m thinking of a taser or AK-47
Although I have no desire to harm anyone”
Raphael sighed and said,
“Not wise to go into the hospital during a pandemic
Who do you have in mind to do the cosmetic altering?”
“You, of course. Your power is stronger than mine…”
“You, the demiurge,” laughed Raphael
“Controlling the material world.
Not much different than I am”
Answered Lucifer, “They confuse me
With cousin Satan
I should stop working for him
Hate contract law”
Gasping aloud and peering into the
Six o’clock dawn
Me, not a dreamer
At least when sleeping
Has dreamt the beginning of a joke
But glad I awoke
Because I’ve been living with
Raphael’s name for the last month
Lighting white candles
Looking for iron fish charms
Asking his help
In keeping us all alive
But in the dream
Are wings of cream and gray
Friends despite what we’ve learned
And I wonder
About this scenario
About the jokey dialogue
What dreams are these?
Two wings touching
Dark and light
Bouncing off daylight…
CLARISSA SIMMENS (Poeturja) is an independent poet; Romani drabarni (herbalist/advisor); ukulele and guitar player; wannabe song writer; and music addict. Favorite music genres include Classic Rock, Folk, Romani (Gypsy), and Cajun with an emphasis on guitar and violin music mainly in a Minor key. Find her on her Amazon Author Page, on her blog, and on FacebookHERE.