I went to the wood to ask for peace
And the wood replied
“No justice, no peace.”
And I said “What can I do?”
I went to the mountain to ask for vision
And the mountain replied
“Look back, look around.”
And I said “I’m afraid. There’s too much to do.”
I went to the hills to ask for courage
And the hills replied
“Make a start, start now”
And I said “Can I make a difference?”
I went to the river to ask for faith
And the river replied
“Trust yourself, trust others.”
And I bowed my head and agreed.
With vision, courage, and faith
I crossed the deserts and swamps
Of man’s inhumanity to man.
I spoke truth to power,
I fed and I clothed
I struggled to right all the wrongs.
And I failed.
Battered and bowed
I returned to the wood again seeking peace,
And the wood welcomed me in.
“Peace is the reward for your trying
The goal is not success but effort.
You’ve fought the good fight,
You’ve held fast to quest.”
And there in the green, leafy world of the wood
I found peace in the home of a friend.
(I wrote this little poem over a week ago for a writing class at FTJ. It seems strangely prophetic in the light of the troubles in Ferguson. I don’t know what to say or to suggest. I just know we have to try our damnedest to love and accept one another.)