|Last month, I strolled around in New York City
and watched Times Square roll with joy again.
I sank, then collapsed inside, feeling the pain
of the slabs, the crumbled stone, and steel.
I don't know why some play a deadly game
for their blinded idols who value only the dark,
but I have grown weary, shattered, repulsed
by their bayonets, box-cutters, devilish deeds.
Yet, I know, like a sun, I can rise above this
to dazzle the hearts, to embrace reed-flutes of peace
to charm a dream, to capture the starving fields
and bare trees, to nurture the earth through my love.
For I love how the dawn turns the bland sand
into crystals of light, tinged in hyacinth hues.
For I love to soothe the hurts, to console the souls,
to heal with kindness, to dote with delight.
For I love to build bridges and to feed children.
For I love every man, nation, race, or creed.
For I love how the wind is soaring inside
the song of the tide, at the beginning of this new day.
© Copyright 2002 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Joy has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
|Log In To Leave Feedback|