Under the Chestnut Tree
The fabric of humanity has been stained.
It smells like poverty of empathy
where dreams die,
and fear and foe
dwell in the dark dimensions
of the domain of dictators,
where drums beat to power and greed.
I kneel in
a place
longing to find truth
in a world
hardened by fear
my heart,
wrapped in a layer of lament.
built into a barricade
to resist the darkness.
I sit under
a chestnut tree.
Just be.
Come sit with me.
What we need is peace
to pierce our hearts,
and love
will be the blanket
that gives us warmth
beneath the rustling leaves.
Your poem beautifully captures the tension between despair and hope, inviting us to seek peace and healing beneath the sheltering branches of compassion and love.
ReplyDeleteThanks roentare you nailed it
DeleteThis makes me think of that old poem, "Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree, the village smithy stands . . . " There definitely is a poverty of empathy these days. Nice poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks Yvonne
DeleteHi Marja - it's a beautiful poem ... with some marvellous scenic thoughts in there - yes please I'd join you ... we do so need peace. Cheers Hilary
ReplyDeleteI am delighted you join me dear Hilary
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