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Why Ever War? A Poem by Larry Gibbs

Why ever war? That's a question Larry Gibbs has been asking himself ever since he saw this military cemetery in Sainte Avold, France, when he was eleven years old. Larry shares, "This is one of our family photos of Sainte Avold Cemetery in France. I was not quite 12 years old when we visited it in 1961.... I was so struck by the image, and the immense tragedy that it represented, that I wrote the first verse of my poem then.

1 Corinthians 13 for COVID-19

If the Apostle Paul was alive today, I imagine he might phrase 1 Corinthians 13 a bit like this.

If I get more retweets and likes than anyone, but my words lack love, it would be better if I never posted.

If I can predict the pandemic curve, sell millions of masks, and even create the best vaccine, but profit from others’ pain instead of prevent it, my net worth is the inverse of my human worth.

Stand and Fight – for Human Life

How can those charged to serve and protect
kill an unarmed man with a knee to the neck?
Why do brown people fear the men in blue 
when there is no difference between me and you?

It’s not right
We see the light
We’ll stand and fight
For human rights

Why do people living off their last piece of earth
get sold out and silenced as if they’re of no worth?
Who gave away the land of their forefathers?
I won’t profit off of it any longer

It’s not right
We see the light
We’ll stand and fight
For human rights

Praise the Day

Praise the Day

Praise the old ipad that slowly obeys,
playing diverse podcasts to inspire my ways

Praise the spring tulips that boldly emerge,
splashing walls and walks with their flamboyant hues

Praise the fragrant leaves, a gift from a friend,
warming heart and tongue with their exotic blend

Praise the smartphone, the only way to see and hear
loved ones these days until the COVID all-clear

Praise the solitude, unsought and distraught,
and the transformation wrought by reading and writing thoughts

A Hero of Peace Flew Away (Jean Vanier)

A hero of peace flew away –

one who saw treasure beneath imperfection

to reveal God’s reincarnation in each conception.

 

A hero of peace flew away, but not quickly.

Not before planting two blossoms on The Farm, which multiplied into a bouquet of thousands. They’ve perfumed France, indeed the world, for over fifty years.

Their scent intensifies still.

 

A hero of peace flew away.

Shards of Glass

Look at this temple that soars to the sky

Now look a bit closer — do you see why?

The bright colours that adorn such lofty towers

Are fragments of glass no bigger than flowers

 

Once beautiful china, they were dumped in the sea

As worthless and broken, nothing to see

 

Holy Communion

My God, let me eat you

Let me drink you in

You’re in the air

You’re in the wind

You’re in the sun

You’re in the trees

Holy communion is all around me

 

Praying in the beauty of Prince Edward County, Ontario.

Deep Peace

Today I am gifted with deep peace. It’s centered deep, low in my body, in my womb. It’s birthing strength to face new challenges and forget past fears. It stills my mind; my body is tranquil. May I carry this peace all day and into tomorrow.

Ode to the Black Prince

“You know that woman who came by herself?” said the vinegar craftsman to the server.

“You mean me?” I asked, revealing my presence, losing the chance to hear the next sentence.

Would it be that I was still there, hours later, sated with vinegar, recipes and stories?

Was it the story I told the young woman who made my pizza, of my travels seeking stories that bring peace? Her great aunt couldn’t marry a Catholic, not because of faith, but because of politics. Her cousin just married a Catholic, a sign of growing peace in Ireland.

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