A Second Poem

of all things here I do not miss

of all things here I do not miss
paved roads and plumbing,
hi-fi stereos and parties,
or any similar thing called comfortable;
here comfort is in eternity,
and the world is a struggling thing.
here there is snow from heaven,
and hospitality,
and a call to prayer at dawn.
here you walk as men have always walked
from the beginning,
clothed in brown and
the dust of the earth,
with a memory as old as time.
here pride is as tall, rage as cold,
vengeance as unforgiving
as the white mountains of the north.
friendships are quick, greetings courteous,
enemies eternal,
and war is in the blood.
they do not march for peace here
(as they do in comfortable places)
but loosen guns in their holsters;
peace is inshallah – if God is willing –
and so far men are not.
here you may long for peace
as a man longs for a woman lost;
it is not for light talk, over drinks
no cocktail pacifism
when the hills are full of graves.

but I have not been through war
and what I long for is you…

we play in the courts of kings,
you and I;
we ride sea-dragons
over white-bearded waves;
we set rings of mountains
on a roar;
we travel by starlight
along the faery roads,
and dwell in the lights of heaven

earthbound inhabitants misapprehend our joy,
they mutter at it cynically
for we have found a kingdom
they have hidden from their longing,
a place they tell their children
does not exist
but you and I are different.

we have held in our minds the image
of an ancient glory,
and staked life on the wonder in our souls
so that now as the world heaves
and peace and freedom are words
to raise armies,
I come to you by the most sacred of ways
and mingle my secret
with yours
rjs 2003