Peace, be
the stone
in my shoe
I cannot
ignore
and cannot
remove.
Posts Tagged ‘peace’
And Every Step I’ll Remember
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged peace, poem, poetry on October 9, 2017| 1 Comment »
How Do We Show Love …
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Colorado Independent, peace, poem, poetry, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer on August 22, 2017| 5 Comments »
…in a time seemingly hellbent on hate? That’s what Phil Woods and I both explored through poems last week in our responses to Charlottesville. Please check out the poems today in the Colorado Independent. To read them, click news poetry. And please, if you are up for it, write a response. We need more conversations about what’s happening.
All the best,
Rosemerry
PEACE
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged peace, poem, poetry, to do list on August 15, 2017| 5 Comments »
And there, on the to do list,
somewhere beneath “post office”
and above “pay the bills” is a single word
not yet crossed out. “Peace.”
You’ve written it in ink, as if
to offer it permanence,
an urgency that can’t be erased.
Every day, you look at it,
wondering if this is the day
that goodwill will come as easily
as changing the burned-out lightbulbs
or taking the garbage out.
You almost stop believing
you will ever cross it off.
After a while, it might seem
just like any other thing
you write on your list, then ignore—
like clean beneath the piano
or organize the garage.
But then the news will shake you,
will render your duties
small. And you’ll write it in
at the top of the list
in all caps, underlined in blue,
PEACE, not something to do,
but something to serve,
something to practice
as you move through the day,
something to inform the way
you fold the sheets, you drive
to town, you attend the meeting,
you make the call, you write
the letter, you do what must be done.
At the Candlelight Vigil
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged parenting, peace, poem, poetry on January 21, 2017| 3 Comments »
Mommy, she says,
her face still warm in candlelight,
why did you start to cry—
and I hear not just curiosity
but the itchy vest of embarrassment.
I don’t tell her
the math of the world
is just too sad,
perhaps I cry more
because for a moment I believe
the words I tell her—
it’s going to be okay.
One Last Thing
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged darkness, light, peace, poem, poetry on December 18, 2016| Leave a Comment »
Let us lace our words with light—
the fragrant light we carry in our flesh.
Even the darkest words can be said
with light, can be spoken with a seam
of radiance, spoken as if the whole world
depends on us finding that inner shine
and sharing it.
All the Way Home
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged change, parenting, peace, poem, poetry, worry on November 14, 2016| Leave a Comment »
Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.
—Helen Keller
Three days after
I think the world
is coming apart,
in the back seat
of the car
my daughter
is improvised
by a song—
I eavesdrop
as she mumbles
along
to an accidental
tune,
change is
wonderful
change
is wonderful.
After Hearing the News About Nice
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Nice, parenting, peace, poem, poetry on July 14, 2016| Leave a Comment »
Unable to undo or reverse the destruction,
I focus on the children I’m charged with.
Hey kids, I say, come sit with me.
I cannot hide that I have been weeping.
They have been fighting, all morning,
as children will, calling each other names
such as “stupid” and “jerk.”
They’ve been refusing to share,
asserting how right they are.
It starts here, I say. Peace begins with the way
that we treat our family and friends.
They are embarrassed by my tears.
My daughter sits on my lap, but looks away.
Stop it, Mom, she says. She slouches
and curls her thin back into my belly.
My son says nothing, then belches
to lighten the mood. I am too sincere.
I almost wish to laugh at myself,
to laugh at him, but instead,
I feel the warm weight of new tears
as they gather before they fall.
The boy beside me, their friend,
takes a big breath, then nods.
I know what you mean, he says.
One of them could have the hand
that pulls the trigger, I think.
One of them could feel righteous
enough to drive a truck into a crowd.
One of them might find the words
I cannot find, the ones that could change
someone else’s set mind,
the words that might turn us toward peace.
One Side
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged peace, poem, warrior on December 9, 2015| 1 Comment »
One Morning
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, community, letting go, peace, poem, poetry on June 11, 2013| 3 Comments »
One morning
we will wake up
and forget to build
that wall we’ve been building,
the one between us
the one we’ve been building
for years, perhaps
out of some sense
of right and boundary,
perhaps out of habit.
One morning
we will wake up
and let our empty hands
hang empty at our sides.
Perhaps they will rise,
as empty things
sometimes do
when blown
by the wind.
Perhaps they simply
will not remember
how to grasp, how to rage.
One morning
we will wake up
and we will have
misplaced all our theories
about why and how
and who did what
to whom, we will have mislaid
all our timelines
of when and plans of what
and we will not scramble
to write the plans and theories anew.
On that morning,
not much else
will have changed.
Whatever is blooming
will still be in bloom.
Whatever is wilting
will wilt. There will be fields
to plow and trains
to load and children
to feed and work to do.
On that morning,
I hope I see you.
Letter to Vivian
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged apology, daughter, epistle, mother, peace, poem, poetry, wanting on May 14, 2013| 6 Comments »
I’m sorry I didn’t let you
watch a movie when we got home tonight.
And I’m sorry I didn’t let you
have a piece of gum before bed.
And I’m sorry it was too late tonight
for a story. I’m sorry.
Not sorry in a guilty way,
but sorry in that I know
how hard it is to want something
and not get it. I know what it’s like
to convince yourself that your happiness
depends on that thing, that whatever thing
that you don’t have.
All those tears. I have cried them, too.
It did not matter that I was loved,
that the bed was warm, that
my belly was full, that the sky
was a lovely shade of peach.
I did not have what I thought
I must have. It does not change
when you’re older. Oh, the whatevers
change, but the longing
is part of being alive.
Tonight I wanted you
to stop crying. I wanted it enough
it nearly made me cry.
But even more than that
I wanted something else
I can’t explain to you.
That greater wanting,
some kind of peace—
could you feel it, too, as it fell on us
like the most gentle rain,
how it fell on your anger,
my helplessness, your wanting,
my wanting—the kind of peace
that touches everything just as it is
and doesn’t change a thing
and changes everything.
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