making peace

denise levertov writes making peace
that it is an active process
it is not the absence of war
but a process in itself: how do we make it?
Make Peace

how do we wage peace?
wage is not the word
we do not do it for money
we must be more active than hoping
engender peace?
spread peace: like a pandemic
a pandemic of peace

the comfort of peace
the joy of peace
the love of peace

the peace of the grave
the peace of sleep
the peace of heaven
peace here now
peace not distant nor below the earth
peace conscious, aware and present
peace alive, breathing, welling up in everyone
peace here now

a pandemic of peace
a river of peace
peace flowing through and around, above and below us
peace full, peace out, peaced
let us verb it
I am peaced today
I peace you
I peace Russia
I peace the soldiers
I peace the Ukraine
I peace the entire world

I peace you
please, will you peace me?
peace me now, then there will be two
and everyone else
peace the world now
a pandemic of peace
make peace

___________________

I taped a conversation with a wren one morning in Wisconsin. I never saw my wren and clearly I have not got the language down, but she kept talking to me anyhow.

Conversation with a wren.

Feathers

This is the final poem in my Falling Angels Dream Poetry series.

Some people say there are

Angels among us

I have faith in birds
I search for a nest
Hummingbird nest
the size of a nut
tiny, lined with spiderwebs
I love the herons too
great blue heron
flying lands in a tree
above me
I look through my mechanical eye
zoom in click click
and there is another
at the tree top
two in a tree
I move around
and there – one drops down
one flies
I am not distracted
a nest
a six foot nest
blessed
I move away gently

I wander back by the tree
gently
in the morning
in the evening
not one
not two
two in this tree
two in that
one in another
as many as five in a tree
six foot wing spans
a rookery of winged beings

angels among us
and why would we think
they would look like us?

birds, beauty, brains

Three happy things today: Birds!

Not a great photograph, right? I like it, partly because it was such a challenge. Still on the big island of Hawaii, we spot two very small birds building a nest. I am zoomed all the way in and holding the camera up to catch a glimpse when one flies in. They are very quick and there is lots of greenery in the way!

I am happy about brains. No, I am not a zombie, I don’t eat them, I just like that my work engages my mind. I learn new things daily from patients, from specialists, from looking up engaging questions! Medicine is changing continuously and I am grateful to be part of it.  (Ok, I am not grateful that insurance companies are increasing prior authorization exponentially.)

I am happy about beauty. Here is another glimpse of our small nest builders and we think we’ve identified them.

DSCN1723.JPG

I think that this is a common waxbill, also not a native bird. Either that or a black-rumped waxbill but neither of us got a good shot of the back. Hooray for spring and nests.

Thorns

Once, oh Best Beloved, there was a little girl. She went on a trip to the desert.

The desert was very different from where she lived. All of the plants had thorns. Even the trees had thorns in their bark. But just like home, there were birds.

She saw a little bird. “Hello little bird,” she said.

“Hello,” said the little bird.

“The trees have thorns,” said the little girl. She touched a cactus softly and it bit her. She pulled out the fine thorns and sucked on her sore finger.

“Yes,” said the little bird.

“Where do you live?” said the little girl.

“Here in the desert!” said the bird, happy.

“How can you live in the desert?” said the little girl.

“There is morning dew and delicious insects and nectar from flowers!” said the bird.

“But can you build a nest?” said the little girl. There were no twigs.

“Of course!” said the little bird. “Come see. My nest is in this tree.”

The little girl looked and there was the nest. The nest was built of thorns.

“It is thorns.” said the little girl, thoughtful. “If you live in the desert, you build your nest of thorns.”