Raising My Voice For Once

I live a modest life, I shun
displays of opinion or pride,
give the last word to others
to cinch our accord, or mark
our discord. How can we ever
find a plateau of agreement,
much less of smiling silence,
if we continuously toss raw
speech at each other? Why has
such bluntness trumped our use
of nuance? Tell me, if you know:
Do our good thoughts ascend and
mingle in a perfect place? While
our bad thoughts infect the air
we breathe, making it heavy
with regrets, recriminations,
poisoned attitudes bumping into
toxic facts. Such is the world
our actions and omissions shaped.
But the world is not some hidden
place, occupied by demons and
dark angels. Are people trying
not to love the world? No, that
will not prevail! The world,
in some mysterious way, is
The Garden, Eden perhaps, or
Humbaba’s forest, or a utopian
farm – Oh, insert whatever name
gives you hope, and makes you
responsible for fulfilling it.
Imagine in an idle moment what
trees will shelter the people
working in the summer’s heat
to make their place a site
of everlasting homecoming.
Then bow in greeting and call
them brothers and sisters. Later,
as you and your fellow workers
rest under their shade, answer me,
Is the world a wicked place, or
is it already the blessed residence
of blessed people? Then we will have
reached our plateau of agreement.