A common space for harmonic peacemakers
Sat there and drove
Dreamed the car was freshly painted
the world round and good
as the Buddha
The sky through the box was the same color
as a pale slide from the 70's
I was not crazy
Not locked up
Self-chosen loneliness and in it I traveled
Without apology, I drove out through dreamy streets
Captured a thriving bookmark
To then throw out flowers
And the more I threw out, the more it grew
out of the basSat there and drove
Dreamed the car was freshly painted
the world round and good
as the Buddha
The sky through the box was the same color
as a pale slide from the 70's
I was not crazy
Not locked up
Self-chosen loneliness and in it I traveled
Without apolket and me and Budda drove on
in wild joy that now, now we would create peace
Now the flowers would begin to grow in the ear canals
on the heat of war, grow into their chests
and strike out in their hearts like green leaves.
My red hair spread and flared
Yes, like a flame, we then drove and stayed
one with the sun.
- Tina Persson, Text and photo.
Comment
Very good poem. I think we all know what it's like to ponder in the car while it's parked. The writer's particulars make it her own, unafraid of the repetition of lines and blossoming Buddhist meditation into the traveling within stillness.
"PEACE
NOT WAR
GENEROSITY
NOT GREED
EMPATHY
NOT HATE
CREATIVITY
NOT DESTRUCTION
EVERYBODY
NOT JUST US"
* * *
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