In the background,
he strips thyme and rosemary from their stems,
into a stainless steel bowl.
The scent of herbs, apple pie and ginger
pervades the family room
where
he watches war unfold on A&E.
An enemy’s blood splatters the screen.
I block out the noise of contradiction,
search for words of love and peace
to celebrate the season in verse.
Music sounds an ending.
I raise my head to witness
a good guy die.
No winners here.
A fire dances in the hearth,
then Mozart fills the room.
Will it be in music
that hope will enclose our battered world?
Will winter snow
cover scorched land, satisfy sere hearts?
Will love supplant bullets,
peace settle in the crevices of wounds?
Bells ring at the entrances of a local Walmart
beneath winter solstice sun.
I do hope that it would be in the music that will bring hope to the world (especially at this season, but at other times of the year as well); if only love could overcome the need for bullets, what a wonderful world it could be.
Merry Christmas, Victoria.
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This is a great -I agree,powerful, yet gentle but firm.?? (hard to put into words) Wishing You Very Merry Holidays! P,S I love the snow and how it follows my curser lol!
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the song of the righteous will be answered with a blessing from heaven in the world’s tempest~ that’s what I felt. Merry Christmas dear friend ~Debbie xo
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I like the struggle in this piece… presented in such a gentle voice
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i think that music has the power to calm us…like claudia i think we live in many a contradiction…i wonder if there really are winners anymore in our battles…so much loss…i like the zoom out on the bells…funny we both touched that today…
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Powerful writing. I could see the scene unwind- the world never stops with the death of a being. A hope is what we all are left with.
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To answer your last question, I sincerely hope so.
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this is well played on the contradictions we have to live with daily.. and that seem to gain even more depth during christmas… love your work on the details here… the bells at the entrance of walmart… hope you’re having a peaceful weekend
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This poem knocks my socks off. In the background the world plays on, and we ask our hopeful questions.
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