Into the rush from the quietude of peace
Begrudgingly I awaken
The dream abruptly stops
Only to realize the nightmare it was, saved I am.
Dreams, the fragments of yesterday
Congregate to create a safer tomorrow
Still beckon fear, uncertainty, discomfort.
Freedom happens when we pass through the dreamland;
Contentment of a new day approaching.
The noises of the morning begin, cars speed by
Street sounds stir the sleepy souls
Encamped along sidewalks
Alone, collectively
Unity in their isolation from humanity.
They are the heart of distress among the wealthy
People bemoan them, criticize their choices
Unknowingly aware of our fragile potential;
One final step away from a tent life.
Lingered by the waterfront, barren trees testify to winter’s grip
People meander by, some on bicycles
Other walking, catapulted into joyous movement
Before another downpour arrives.
Children, with parents guidance
Find adventure in the museum, history and exploration
All imprint tiny sparks of tomorrow
In minds of today.
Listen, learn, repeat.
Retreated back to the quiet
The soft whirl of the fan’s blades
Create an ambiance of quietude, rest.
Thoughts blend around scenes of laughter
Joy, hope, and the desolate emptiness of nothing
Surrounded by debris, and the debris of humanity.
Be the voice, the courage, the empathy and find ways
Build bridges of hope, not only to cover the lost
But to create paths of peace for all to find hope in the quiet.
Poem written after driving in downtown Portland, Oregon. The poor, homeless population encamped on sidewalks, littered humanity striking a harsh contrast to the high rises and men in suits. I found it hard to sleep a block away from at least 10 tented dwellings.
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Previously Published on medium
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Photo credit: iStock