A voice from the dark called out,
\n\u2018The poets must give us
\nimagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar
\nimagination of disaster. Peace, not only
\nthe absence of war.\u2019<\/p>\n
But peace, like a poem,
\nis not there ahead of itself,
\ncan\u2019t be imagined before it is made,
\ncan\u2019t be known except
\nin the words of its making,
\ngrammar of justice,
\nsyntax of mutual aid.<\/p>\n
A feeling towards it,
\ndimly sensing a rhythm, is all we have
\nuntil we begin to utter its metaphors,
\nlearning them as we speak.<\/p>\n
A line of peace might appear
\nif we restructured the sentence our lives are making,
\nrevoked its reaffirmation of profit and power,
\nquestioned our needs, allowed
\nlong pauses . . .<\/p>\n
A cadence of peace might balance its weight
\non that different fulcrum; peace, a presence,
\nan energy field more intense than war,
\nmight pulse then,
\nstanza by stanza into the world,
\neach act of living
\none of its words, each word
\na vibration of light\u2014facets
\nof the forming crystal.
\n_____________________________________________<\/p>\n