by Claudia Lapp
It can be this good,
life on our green planet:
give us a lake of silken waters, spring-fed.
Drop in people of all fleshy shapes, colors and
speaking many languages, side by side.
Let the water be various shades of jade green
with tiny fishes to edge between toes.
Let the orange life guard's banner float on the
Let each cloud caravan move across perfect sky,
each leaf respond to each strand of summer breeze,
each ant and dandelion dance its part in harmony.
And if there be disharmony,
let it be forgotten, here and now,
by Irish and Anglo, Arab and Jew, Black and White.
Let the AK automatics of hate drop from bruised
If there be heartache, let the winds carry it away,
here and now,
and if it remain, let it find
its source and be healed.
If there be weariness of old age, let the waters
Let the waters smooth us all to rounded green pebbles,
If peace were our greatest
harmony our best-selling product,
and no one unemployed in its pursuit,
this scene would be as common as chicory flowers
as we soaked in solar pleasure and
the simple beauty of humans in harmony
at the jade green lake.
Body Politic of Peace
The body is not
as some people
would like you
The body knows
peace; peace, after
all, is the body's
Think of the body
in repose, the way
breath opens up;
think of the body
in love. It knows
what to do. It is
our mind that does
not. It is our mind
that makes us feel
it is our mind
that dreams up war.
The body says no,
come back to me,
I am fragile and strong
and I connect you
to your brothers and sisters.
I connect you to the earth.
Come back to the heartbeat,
the pulse, the rhythm
we all walk to, regardless
of nation or color. Come back
to the breath--inhale, take the world
deep into your lungs; exhale,
give yourself back fully.
This is what the body says:
release the peace
that lives within your skin.
In the night in the quiet after love
we are disarmed--at peace with each other.
Our moment there envelopes the armed
settling into silos where missiles wait,
fogging radar screens, muddling generals' minds
bringing drowsiness to soldiers on watch.
What we do in our private lives does
Who we are, what we love, how we make peace
one by one, two by two, three by three...ahh,
the peace of the world is built in this way.
Your openness to me--trusting, eager,
vulnerable--makes our lusty union whole.
Missiles are rusted by our moist love words.
Your giggles jam the guns of combatants.
This softness between us in our day life
melts the metal helmets the soldiers wear.
Our relationship infiltrates war
Our balance love helps makes the decision
against mobilization. Last night's love---
no need today for retaliation.
We begin here: first each with our
then together, one and one making two,
and from here, then, the world must bend to us
as surely as dawn bends to the night, lifts,
her veil to reveal the light, new day...
The first disarmament is that between
From here, from this room on Allard Street,
the world is set at peace.
Sound of Peace
Peace comes without a warning quietly
As a whisper, softly as a kiss
Brushed against a cheek
War announces itself at the top of
Breathing fire, how can Mankind survive the need
For power and land without brandishing
Threats of nuclear war?
Such power frightens everyone except
The foolish and the greedy
Someone will always play the game
Without rules, without conscience, without regard
To the consequences
We must each try to find peace at
Within ourselves, pray that evil will not triumph,
Time and sanity brings a quiet peace
On tiptoe so as not to disturb the
Sleeping beast we weave our way around the
Specter of war, the devil's feast
There we may find hidden from view
The treasure we call peace
She never lit a candle in a vigil.
She never raised a voice for human rights.
She slept on public benches in the summer--
In basements shelters on cold, winter nights.
She never held a sign and demonstrated.
She moved no one to action with her words,
But in the park each day, by roaring traffic,
She knelt to share her bread crumbs with the birds.