1.

Questioning

Prayers among hilltop oak and elm seek clarity from God. Do answers lie within my silent soul? Eyes spill tears at headlines from Gaza, Ukraine and Iran. Ideals no longer shine in leaders save for those with little sway. Might once-joyful children’s voices haunt men who order other men to kill? Could retribution’s prospect put their plans in disarray? Why will we not heed the values in the sacred books of major faiths? Is our nation, modeled by its Founders on ancient Greek and Roman governance, at last, like them, to fall from our officials’ greed-induced political corruption to the people’s impotent dismay? Can no clear-eyed prophet force our eyes toward Heaven’s model for a peaceful world to come?

2.

Witnessing

Northern Irish forebears’ moral passions burn within my breast. To see the stranger as a sibling frames my peace and justice strivings as a Jew. The Vietnam Moratorium at 16 in ’69 at the Washington Monument was my first massive march, opposing Nixon’s war. There speech and song stoked embers of intentions for ideals. If I could, I’d gather the old pin buttons and the stickers with the worn-through sneakers’ soles as artifacts of my commitment to the cause. I’ve sung with Holly Near in Nicaragua, called attention at the Pentagon to Reagan’s covert war, been one among one million near the UN Session on Nuclear Disarmament, labored in New Orleans’ Katrina-ravaged Lower 9. At 72 my will is steel, my body slow. The need is here to stay.    

3.

Stirring

BBC and Reuters headlines testify to misery in Gaza, Ukraine, South Sudan. Tears fill aged eyes at breakfast. Sloshing pain in buckets weighs on shoulders as blueberries, yogurt and granola descend inside my frame. To avoid the news seems selfish yet there’s little I can do. Like the Dutch boy with his finger in the dike, I tap mine across the keyboard to raise a Conscience Call to cleanse myself of anguish and move the reader into action as others’ books move me. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel asserts that “the prophet reflects, not on heavenly or hallowed mysteries, but on the perplexities and ambiguities of history,” a more salient claim than the youthful indoctrination that one who follows dreams can bend the arc toward justice.

 

4.

Recycling

Since our species acts in patterns is there a hidden cure for malice? The Apollo 7 Astronauts’ Blue Marble image evoked praise for global unity, environmental conservation and the irrelevance of nations’ boundaries. President Carter’s Camp David Accords achieved an Israel-Egypt peace. With apartheid done, Mandela free, South Africa rejoiced. Soviet Premier Gorbachev’s Glasnost openness ushered in a stabilizing dialogue with President Reagan, calming Cold War threats. Exultation grew through Europe at the Berlin Wall’s collapse. Yet our U.S. legacy of causing fascist coups in Chile and Iran bred Reagan’s illegal war against Nicaragua’s democratic Sandinista revolution. Prophets’ voices echo vainly. Ill history repeats.

 

5.

Perceiving

Sneaker treads sketch across beach sand. Seagulls scatter, squawking. Capricious winds toss children’s curls. Glee and umbrage mingle with productive time then fallow, despair till hope appears. Fleeting adult lives dismiss the spontaneity of youth for the clasp of ticking time, as if to gather more of things will quench a thirst for love. Fancy titles are vestiges of memory. Recycle your ideals. If you can live in comfort, then concretely serve the ones who can’t. Sit alone, awaken. Sense nature as a sage in the coexistence of the trees, of hovered hummingbirds with bees, lithe blades of grass with sultry breeze. Practice conversations so you listen more than talk, invite the partner’s story while joining him or her to walk. Embody values you espouse.

 

6.

Paradigm Shifting

Détente with private tigers sheathes their fangs and claws. Shelve the diplomatic chess game to speak frankly to a friend while hiking verdant rough terrain. Embrace humility as the teaching of a Divinity above. The still small voice assigns the work of “being peace” to us. Don a loud shirt of vivid silk before you bang a tambourine to inspire neighbors near. Adorn a café table with an artist’s tools and coffee while ignoring others’ prying eyes. Feel thin paper’s careful grasp of pencil lead as you sip then set about your task: through perceptive sketching’s tactile sense exploring, find your inner muse to indulge untapped capacities for creativity before the hopefulness of growing up becomes the anguish of the old.

7.

Beyond the Bubble

House finch, chickadee and sparrow comprise an aviary airport in the morning as they descend for seed. Tardy larger cardinal tries to wedge its way within but learns to wait its turn. I marvel at what those who dominate the nation might learn from nature’s source. What will they intend once their greed has left the cupboard bare? If nations banished borders would their furies end? If lavish weapons costs cured global homelessness and hunger, would we then harvest joy? Might leaders shape consensus instead of stoking rage? Would we have the patience to embrace the change that parts from what we know? Whom would we trust to light the lamp that shows the path? I wrestle angels for their knowledge as I poke complacent minds with words.

 

8.

Then and Now

The images were crystal clear. The televised Oval Office message on three networks of the time made the Cold War crisis clear.  Soviet missiles placed in Cuba were merely ninety miles from here. Arduous diplomacy and carefully composed messages sent back and forth by the principals in private stabilized the scene. A naval quarantine around the island preserved the status quo affording time for words, not bombs, to land. President Kennedy and Premier Khrushchev kept conference table hawks at bay till their letters won the day with a face-saving accord that removed the fearsome Cuba missiles plus those of ours abroad – a contradiction to the current governmental bloodlust of the United States, Israel and Iran.