Unless We Touch Flowers

At times one clearly sees, hate will uproot

all meaning from mother earth and her flute

will play no more and skies will be torn

and a grievous grief will soon be born

unless the sun descends deep into our life

adding meaning to this endless strife

unless we touch living flowers each day

and we love on though love look away

and this let us resolve , “love won’t die out

or dampen within us, though at times we cry out

for clarity beyond the clouds, for a touch

of meaning when an extra bit is too much”

and this let us resolve “we will overturn

defeat into a lesson of love. We will burn

ourselves in a passion seeking the rays

of a fading life of more nights than days”

so that, each thorny day, flowers are born anew

children speak radiance that is bold and true

winter unfolds spring, deep within our hearts

in harmony we play our passionate parts

amidst all the noise and nonsense let us flatter

ourselves that the sun walks with us and we matter

that the song which awakened us will spread

some darkness unnamed won’t leave our souls dead

(* written about three years before 9/11 and the subsequent madness)