| Global Justice in the 21st Century |
My 94th Birthday amid rubble and precious life
[Prefatory Note: my poem on navigating the narrowing channel Between personal happiness and public gloom.] My 94th Birthday amid rubble and precious life 1.Demons Prowling For these last years I felt It was strange to be still alive When so many around me were dead Stranger still to stay young within To receive and give love While the planet burns And untamed demons prowl Plunging the world into total darkness It seems even The night sky shares the gloom of earth Even the stars retreat as if on strike Against demon stalkers of the night Prowling about their mansions of deceit Trampling upon their manicured gardens Hatefully howling in the darkness Until the only safe comfort zones Were hidden distant in the galaxy II. Precious Living Yet despite the carnage Roses bloom guarded by thorns Gardenias retain their addictive aroma A glorious bestowal of nature’s blessings And yet we complain that it is not enough Indulging our pure greed always wanting more Yet our private and inner life eludes the grasp Of beasts of prey and demons of the night The joys of loving and being loved never age Rather grow old together gathering wisdom Year by year accepting and affirming what remains What is lost as long as your love and presence Resists abandonment, partners to the end As long as the radiance of love infuses our lives As long as the lives and legacies of our children As long as this sturdy light of my life stays bright Bringing tears of delight of love’s deepest roots Through time and emotional memories Good and bad playful ironic serious That long we know we are still alive To what always matters most up close III. Jackal Dominion Always darkness and light merge At dawn and dusk never diverge Almost as certain as death itself Birds and cats know more than we About the movements of earth and sky Those blessed companions, therapists Of the soul, minions of the heart Until now spared from vengeful jackals In control now our public destiny Each day the shrouded bodies of babies Subverts our sacred longing for serenity With shrieks of horror by those left alive While those others the jackals Dare speak to us with gruesome clarity Of unabashed evil means and ends Yet they are there and we are here For us living fearfully at a distance Nothing worse is yet happening to me Than nightly disturbances of sleep But tomorrow a servant of the jackals May knock hard on our door bringing The news that that there is no more there IV. Cry Freedom! When slaves break their chains And patriots of the earth become Warriors gardeners poets engaging In a fight worth winning for the sake Of those we love and learn from So long as the trusted soul breathes its light While the body is busy with the work of dying Life remains a precious gift of the god Richard Falk Santa Barbara, California November 13, 2024 |