I look up at the moon
the beautiful moon
and realize
this jewel, is neither rooted nor chained
nor caged, nor restrained

But as I realize this miracle
grinning at this joyful justice
another thought enters my counciousness
breaking up my inner celebration

Should not every being
that witness' it's glorious presence
be filled with this sense of hope
and desire to live life?

 And a six year old girl in Iraq
who runs madly down the ruins
of what once was her street
looking over her shoulder to see her mother
being chased by a tank

Doesn't this six year old girl
look up at the same moon?
With tears in her eyes
instead of my hope?
I wish I could give her mine.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 10th, 2007 at 8:08 pm and is filed under Defies Categorization, Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.