Sunday, December 28, 2008

Christmas 2008

Christmas Eve, 2008 –

I watch Desmond Tutu preaching,

on tape

with a glass of Shiraz in my hand,

he talks about sainthood and love.

Christmas Night-

in my dreams

I belong to no nation or race

defined only by your love

– not Montague, but you- gender free

(how silly of me?)

I awake the day after

Israel bombed Gaza strip.

There is a logic beyond it. I believe

Reason says that attack is the best defense.

How do you justify then the murder of innocent children?

The argument climbs as a rusted church steeple

rotten by time, tears and passions

my faith has fallen:

(how ugly are You in the shattered mirror)

I realize : there is no escape

but to trust Desmond Tutu and say:

I believe!

There is more good in you than there's evil

and God rubs his hands looking down, pleased

"This is my creation"

a draft that matches the prompt on Sunday Scribblings: "I believe"


Devil Mood said...

This is such a significant poem today, but sadly so it would be years ago. Somethings aren't changing as we had hoped but we have no choice but to believe.

Annamari said...

it is an old story indeed.I am thinking abut "Christmas Night - I had a dream that..."
And this year was marked by so many contradictory events -some that made us proud to be human, some that made was wonder ...

quin browne said...

i, too, read tutu today.

well done... it touched me.

Tumblewords: said...

Yes, indeed, a touching post. We must believe and work toward that... Nicely done!

phish said...

i am fantastically and emotionally blown by this.

this is why blogs are important. not just as online rants but as timestamps for history. and why we feel ashamed to be human on some days.

i am glad i stopped by.

Linda Jacobs said...

There is a deceptive softness to this poem that helps it to pack a wallop! I especially like the church steeple simile!

Annamari said...

isn't he great?(Tutu)
we do have to try (to believe)
I am glad you stoped by too
Thank you.
When I go to church I pass by another one with a rusted steeple and a broken roof. It used to be beautiful. It makes me think...

Sweet Talking Guy.. said...

You recorded the moment so well here, it's sad that these things happen and the eternal question will always be why?

Anonymous said...

Wow. I am blown away by the power held in this poem. It touches a lot of ethical questions about humanity.

I love the way you wove history into this poem, and you did it so eloquently! I wish I could do some of that! I'm still trying and have a long way to go!

Thank you for sharing this and for kindly stopping by! :)

gautami tripathy said...

Concrete images. Liked reading it..

guts wrench out.....

And please do visit Poetry Train being run each Monday!

Annamari said...

why? because we are human after all, I guess. Because we let reason prevail...

Contextual poetry is one of the forms I find easy, because this is how I perceive the world . I have an issue with concrete forms and "being in the moment" forms. You just have to find the language that works the best for you, I think...I like your poems as they are.
thank you.

Anonymous said...

Poetry like this captures the essence of why I began to take poetry seriously. This is wonderful writing. Thanks for pointing me here. Cheers.

Anonymous said...

i love how the various parts voices personas come together in a chorus

Annamari said...

thank you.
I always had high regards for poetry and poets.
I am glad it came well toghether (as a whole)...

Anonymous said...

Multumesc pentru comentarii. La multi ani si tie! Inca nu-ti pot face publice cpmentariile pentru ca suntem in concediu si mi-am uitat parola de la blogger.

Un an fericit.