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Is there truly any heart

so hard that it cannot begin

.

to beat again in time with

the pain of the world?

.

I don't know for sure,

but I have an idea.

.

Those of us with hearts

bleeding needn't wait

.

for the change of heart

of those heedlessly

.

imparting the violence

if it is even yet to come;

.

no, the thrum of life

must not be silenced.

.

It is violence that must

no longer be allowed

.

to express its depths

when it is so unfeeling.

.

Violence is senseless;

it does not see

.

the extent of harm

that it causes.

.

It will never hear

the cries of those

.

suffering at its hands;

it cannot taste

.

the salt of their tears.

Violence does not smell

.

the smoke from all of

the good and beautiful things

.

it has burned to ash;

it cannot feel

.

sadness at their loss,

guilt over its actions,

.

or the need to relent

the way a human can.

.

We must not suffer

violence and its whims

.

if we are to continue;

we must step in.

.

We get to decide

our conditions.

.

Our hearts will lead us,

if we will only listen.

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If.....

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This is splendid and sweet, A. A wonderful weaving of hopes, actions, ideas and consequences. I like the spacing, cadence and rhymes. The rhyming is so subtle I did not notice it at first, but see it as I read through the poem several times. Lines like these sizzle: "Those of us with hearts bleeding needn't wait for the change of heart of those heedlessly imparting the violence if it is even yet to come;" Thank you for this profund, thoughtful and piercing poem.

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Thank you, Kaitlin. You have named a sledgehammer in our heartbreaking world.

Idea

It’s been said that

our children learn much more

by watching what we do,

than by listening

to what we say;

that music touches the soul

in spots far deeper

than words, alone, can reach;

and that dancing opens us

to thoughts and ideas

we never could have imagined

from our seats.

Here’s my idea:

Our generation needs

to learn to sing

and dance to the song,

“Study War No More”

while our children

and grandchildren are watching,

and put its lyrics

into action in our lives,

here and now.

Otherwise, how

will war ever end?

*I ain’t gonna study war no more!*

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I am hearing that country joe and the fish rag from woodstock.

One two three.....

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"Hey, what's the big idea?" the guy in the movie says,

And I wonder,

What IS the big idea?

Stumbling through life with these little ideas

Too nervous to lift my eyes,

To see the cornfield for the corn

(No, too small-- the whole farm, the whole agricultural system, this dead zone we've created to feed the pigs to feed ourselves to feed our cars).

The big picture,

The whole.

Too much to hold at once

but I try.

What's the big idea?

How do I make sense of this gargantuan world?

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Like a frikkin 3000 piece jigsaw puzzle.

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This is very powerful and compelling, Lisa. And your wonderful question at the end of the poem: “How do I make sense if this gargantuan world?” How to we?

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A thought that becomes a question

Sparks and ignites a flame

That lights a new path

From well-worn trails

Out of the darkness of what has been

Offering a new way

Saying come with me

And together we can see where this leads.

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I wonder how much good stuff stays squelched in the well worn trails.

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This is lovely Rachel. So honest and so hopeful. I love the ending: “Offering a new way saying come with me and together we can see where this leads.”

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Idea

Innovative

Daring

Exciting

Adventurous

...

It's just an idea

it could fly or fall

it might succeed or fail

but doesn't everything

begin with that tiny spark

that brings forth an idea

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My son hourly proclaims:

“I have an idea”

His eyes sparkling -

a slice of sun

lighting a lake

-

Sometimes he explains it

how he and his cousin

can take turns

how the playdough

can be the missing ball

-

Other times he runs off

without a word

His body chasing

the secret his mind

uncovered

-

Until he returns:

“I figured it out!”

His voice lifting -

a song filling

the morning air

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oh thank you for this. A love poem 💜

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I love this. My toddler saw someone tap their face and exclaim "Ah! I got an idea!" and throw up their pointer finger on a show once, so now when he wants to do something he often mimics the motions and says "ah! Idea!" and it's one of my favourite things.

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This is a lovely and beautiful poem. Full of hope, wonder and surprise. The song filling the morning air is a wonderful ending!

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Who decides stupid??

Hold my beer and watch for cops

It's an adventure.

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The feeling of living a normal life in a world full of horrors is so strange that I can't even wrap my mind around it. Thank you for putting this into words.

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I D E A

Dear unique one,

you are the spark

that reminds us

we are human

and not machine,

soul

not algorithm,

imagination

not a system,

‘I’ - individual

‘dear’ - feeling, hoping, illuminating,

driven by care

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Oh, I love this. Thank you for sharing.

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This is wonderfully creative and sweet work, Ange.

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LIke Kaitlin and so many of us, I am grieving another day in the brutal wars in Gaza, in Ukraine, in Haiti, in Ethiopia, Myanmar, and all the other places where we may not use the term, but people are dying. I am grieving the deaths and destruction to come. May this Memorial Day be a new beginning.

Memorial Day, 2024

^

More deaths to mourn,

more grief to carry,

more loss to lament.

Somewhere along the way

this holiday of grief and lament

was decorated in red, white and blue,

became about patriots, country and God,

instead of a day of grief for each one lost

along the way.

As if patriotism and flag waving

need one more holiday.

What a strange idea.

News of more death comes,

couched as a “tragic accident”

by the ones who give the orders

to kill.

What a strange idea.

^

There are no accidents in war.

Each death a result of the idea

that might equals right,

force equals freedom,

hatred brings a homeland.

What a strange idea.

^

Today another idea comes to mind.

Let this be the day

we choose another way.

Swords into ploughshares,

spears into pruning hooks,

nations into peaceful sanctuaries

homelands into hope lands

where borders are only markers

on a map,

to show where the walls

came tumbling down.

May the idea that Love

Is stronger than hate,

hope overcomes fear,

joy is for all people,

that we are beings of a global nation,

without artificial and spiritual barriers

to separate us;

may that idea become reality.

^

May every idea that brings peace,

wholeness, harmony and freedom,

be celebrated as seeds of redemption,

songs of freedom,

prayers of tomorrows

where we learn war no more.

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"As if patriotism needs one more holiday"

yes.

"All we need to do is recover from our addiction to privelege" (a snippet of advice from a steven charleston post)

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"As if patriotism and flag waving need one more holiday" - amen.

And oh, "where borders are only markers on a map, to show where the walls came tumbling down." 🙌🏻

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Thank you for writing this. The Genocide Israel towards Palestinians has been on my mind for months now. It is good to hear more people say it aloud.

Idea.

Academia has stolen my love of writing.

I want it back.

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@natasha, I feel your pain. This one's for you.

Ideas

are the seeds

that grow

into progress

and art;

and are

anathema

to systems

and bureaucracy.

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Thank you so much for this poem! I will keep it preciously. How much I agree!

Ideas as art as anathema to bureaucracy... 💜

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I feel all of this.

Academia stole my love of reading, as well as writing. I was an English major. I burned out before getting my degree and it's taken a lot longer than I'd like, but they both came back even stronger.

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I rise early

Brewing

Percolating

An idea gently steeping

While the world is sleeping.

I sit with it

Sipping slowly

Fragrant steam rising

Savoring the moment

Of where it all began.

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Very nice Janine! I like the symbolism of coffee and you jointly savoring in the morning.

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Do you have any ideas?

That's a good idea!

I have no idea.

You have no idea.

With ideas, hope. possibility.

Without, pain. despair.

We want to see and be seen,

The world's suffering to be heard.

We yearn for comfort and solace,

Assurance that there's more.

That broken past of shadows,

Any sign of coming dawn.

Acknowledge, accept,

Move with what's been.

Love the broken,

Bring it along.

Whisper softly in faith,

A better world is coming.

Indeed, in the seeing,

It already draws near.

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This is lovely, Katie. A winding journey through ideas and circumatsances into hope and a new day. Very nice!

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I have no idea

how professing Christians

can read passages

like 2 Timothy 3 or 4:3

and believe that

“in the last days…”

warnings of people

with no love but

for money and themselves,

who lie and

hate what is good,

and silo themselves

in echo chambers

of their [the algorithms’]

making

applies to

their neighbor

wearing glitter

at the Pride Parade,

the trans child begging

for their humanity

at the local school

board meeting,

or the college student

insisting that their

institution divests

from the military

industrial complex

making a killing

from genocide

but not

to the billionaire

profiting from

tax breaks [not handouts],

union busting,

right to work laws,

and not paying employees

a living wage

or to the politicians

receiving donations

from gun manufacturers

while calling for the removal

from the state house chamber

of the mother in red

pleading for

gun reforms

before the next mass shooting

claims the life of

her baby

or to the editors at the Atlantic

[name interchangeable

with other publications]

who allow for phrases like

“Legally killed children”

to be published

in good faith.

I thought

they of all people

would know the

imprecatory

implications

of calling evil

good and good

evil.

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I actually am an optimist, but looking around the world today, and seeing how some things never change, has opened up a cynical side of me.

Sometimes I wonder

if anything is true.

Maybe what we've seen as green

in reality is blue.

What if the laws of the universe

are not written in stone at all?

What if the only way to rise is to

take the plunge, and fall?

I'm not sure what to think,

it's just an idea that I had,

but maybe the arc of the universe

is bending toward the bad?

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I hear and feel you, Sarah. It is so easy to be cynical in these times, and I appreciate that your poem expresses that so well. I like to think that the arc of the Universe bends towards justice, but that it gets impededed by the worst aspects of our nature, because too often, that is what is being fed. Thank you for being you in this world.

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Enjoyed your post and poem this morning, to lift my hurting heart with what is happening in Gaza. ❤️‍🩹

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