Far Enough to Heal

Pardon me as I sit here a while,
away from the world as we know it,
here by still waters far in the woods,
far enough there is no sound of civilization.

There is wind in the trees.
the sound of ripples. Ducks flying
and landing and chattering to each other.
You can hear your breath and if you listen,

you can hear the beat of your heart,
blood rushing, beat by beat, through your head.
It is too much, the world. Not too much to survive,
but too much for my peace, too much anger

and dismissal and vengeance and abandonment
of the very things that can heal us. I can bear it,
but not easily. And so I come to places like this.
Quiet places. Still places.

Where I can take time and let the sun rest
on my face. Where no one is clamouring.
Places that speak more to eternity
than the latest poll or stock report,

Still places, where I can hear myself
and hear the always soft voice of God.
Places where I can refocus, push aside the noise
and be.

Be what I am, down deep. Be what an angry
world dismisses as weak, or poor, or dangerously peaceful.
Dangerously loving. What if love became the standard?
What then, would we do with the anger? Who then

would we cut to shreds and punish and judge?
How then would we feel righteous and powerful?
I listen. THere is peace in this place
and I am aware it is only temporary,

that the world beyond the forest walls
is still angry and noisy and dismissive.
Yes, I am aware. And I will return to that world.
But not quite yet. No, for now

I will sit and soak up the silence,
fill myself with it. Let it seep
into my soul, my mind, my ability
to chose and act and live,

Just enough
to go on.

About this poem

It’s a divisive, angry world out there. At times the vitriol wears me out and I have to go away to a peaceful place to sit, pray, rest and restore. I will be doing that the week after Easter for a few days and I am chomping at the bit to leave the world behind for a few days. So it is on my mind, and it seems, in my poetry.

No, I am under no illusion that I can save the world. But I can touch my little part of it a bit, and hope it spills over to someone else’s little part.

Be well. Travel wisely,

Tom