Raising My Voice For Once Poem by Daniel Brick
Raising My Voice For Once
I live a modest life, I shun
displays of opinion or pride,
give the last word to others
to cinch our accord, or mark
our discord. How can we ever
find a plateau of agreement,
much less of smiling silence,
if we continuously toss raw
speech at each other? Why has
such bluntness trumped our use
of nuance? Tell me, if you know:
Do our good thoughts ascend and
mingle in a perfect place? While
our bad thoughts infect the air
we breathe, making it heavy
with regrets, recriminations,
poisoned attitudes bumping into
toxic facts. Such is the world
our actions and omissions shaped.
But the world is not some hidden
place, occupied by demons and
dark angels. Are people trying
not to love the world? No, that
will not prevail! The world,
in some mysterious way, is
The Garden, Eden perhaps, or
Humbaba's forest, or a utopian
farm - Oh, insert whatever name
gives you hope, and makes you
responsible for fulfilling it.
Imagine in an idle moment what
trees will shelter the people
working in the summer's heat
to make their place a site
of everlasting homecoming.
Then bow in greeting and call
them brothers and sisters. Later,
as you and your fellow workers
rest under their shade, answer me,
Is the world a wicked place, or
is it already the blessed residence
of blessed people? Then we will have
reached our plateau of agreement.
Good n bad exist side by side but i share your ideal of a perfect Utopian land. We poets in fact are idealistic souls craving a world where only goodness reigns. The acts of evil are very disturbing to sensitive souls. Though reaching this ideal state of existence is hard but we must dream. It makes life more tolerable. A thoughtful n thought-provoking write. A10
I agree so much with you, Nosheen. We live so far apart and decend from different traditions, but we share the same hopes (or are they just dreams?) for AN IDEAL STATE OF EXISTENCE. Or perhaps we are the beginning generation of a new phase of life on earth! !
I share with you that paradox of a personal tendency toward quiet disagreement but vulnerable to the gravitational pull of toxic arguments─followed, of course, by quiet remorse. And in that quiet remorse, I too, dream of that Utopian existence of harmony without conflict, but a dream that must ignore the faults of my own humanity which would wreck such a garden with the serpentine flicking of my own sharp tongue. Thank you, Daniel, for this interlude in your Elysian meditation, it was a peaceful dalliance, indeed.
It's so true that any utopian ideal is a fragile thing vulnerable and short-lived. But, a wise teacher told a group of us teachers of the young, nothing that is not first imagined can come into existence. Perhaps that is the mission of our age: to provide the imagined future and being poets we are suited to fulfill that mission.
The world, in some mysterious way, is The Garden, Eden perhaps, or Humbaba's forest, or a utopian- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Imagine in an idle moment what trees will shelter the people working in the summer's heat to make their place a site of everlasting homecoming.- - - - - - - Loved the way you view this world as a heavenly garden and trees as sheltering people working under Summer heat and a place of everlasting home coming. Your love and care for the world and its greenery is outstanding.
I love it when you raise your voice...and others do as well. You are not alone in this expressive writing nor in its title. Personally, I have felt this way myself. I have felt that I have to raise my voice more now than ever before...not because I think the world is wicked or loving...but because we as a human race are both and we need to be held accountable and take responsibility for our role in this Eden...or whatever we might call it. Nice symmetry and plot to this writing and very fitting. To cinch our accord or mark our discord...a lovely rhyme and recurring theme...and the insertion of the word 'trumped, ' a clever and not so subtle reference....Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 9:41:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
They live side by side and like two sides of the coin we have to embrace it gently.