Mahatma (1987: Age 16)

January 24, 1987

They will beat us,
They will kill us,
We must not raise a hand
Nor strike a blow.
If we raise our fists
There will be no heavier a blow
Upon the battle we fight.
If we hold our hands
There will be no heavier a blow
Upon the battle they fight.

Should we raise one fist,
Should we strike one child,
Should we kill one enemy,
There need be no life
For we deserve no freedom.

This poem reflects the impression seeing the movie Gandhi had on me and offers a hint at the great struggle of my life balancing a call to service in the Navy with a faith that was beginning to grow increasingly defined by the concepts of non-violence. Reading this poem today, not only does it contain a powerful message of Love that remains loud in my head, it calls me to revisit my faith in earnest and honesty again.

See also, The Kingdom posted a few days ago:
https://sailorpoet.com/2018/08/30/the-kingdom-1987-age-17/

Over the next few weeks I will be spending time with my 16-17 year old self from 1987. In no particular order, these poems will be presented in the final form I found them on computer discs discovered in an attic many years ago. This will culminate in the next entry of my Into My Own, My Story as a Writer series found here:

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/05/08/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-i-how-it-began/

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/06/14/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-ii-why-i-wrote-1986/

The Kingdom (1987: Age 17)

January 24, 1987

We will march to the steps,
We will march to the sea,
We will march together
Until we find our home.
We will break the codes,
We will make salt,
We will make wine
Until we reach our home

Are we near?
Are we distant?
I need water,
I want to go home.
Will you take me?
Will you guide me?
It must be near,
I need to go home.

You say,
As we march and create:
“Raise your hands
And hold one another’s
When you do so
You will have found home.”
It must be near,
We need to find our home.

Over the next few weeks I will be spending time with my 16-17 year old self from 1987. In no particular order, these poems will be presented in the final form I found them on computer discs discovered in an attic many years ago. This will culminate in the next entry of my Into My Own, My Story as a Writer series found here:

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/05/08/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-i-how-it-began/

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/06/14/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-ii-why-i-wrote-1986/

The Call of the Mourning (1987: Age 16)

April 25, 1987

A voice from the distance

A hollow echo within

The victory march – a funeral hymn

The call of the mourned
To the mourning:

Life is bled
Life is finished
The Lord takes away
To give again

An echo in the distance

A voice from within

A funeral hymn – Gloria

A call from the children
To the mother within:

Spare your tears
No seed will flower
The Lord takes away
To return again

Do not mourn
We are not to return
Unite our hearts
We need not mourn

In honor of the children and families of Manchester and around the world who have fallen victim to the irrational power of hatred embodied in terrorism of all brands, a favorite song of mine from 1987 performed by one of my guilty pleasures, Ariana Grande:

Over the next few weeks I will be spending time with my 16-17 year old self from 1987. In no particular order, these poems will be presented in the final form I found them on computer discs discovered in an attic many years ago. This will culminate in the next entry of my Into My Own, My Story as a Writer series found here:

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/05/08/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-i-how-it-began/

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/06/14/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-ii-why-i-wrote-1986/

Waters Can Look So Still

The Hague looks so still.
“Kids are safe in school”
“Kids are safe in school”
Did a Dad say that in Newtown?
Did a Dad say that in Peshawar?
And what if he did,
Do the words and wishes of fathers
Matter?

When tears fill God’s well
They burn like hell
Dripping on our barren Soul
Stripped of beauty by insanity
Of one sort or another:
Video games
Fanaticism
Party lines.

Blame ourselves
For failing Love

The one need
The only need
That really matters.