There are many lovely images in the world to bring us peace, but when the earth gets warm and somehow icky, we forget to stop and breathe them in. It is vital we do not forget to look for peace on earth. In spite of seeking calm and striving for that buoyancy that brings us up from our downs, it is difficult to not, at some point, feel the sadness and the loss. This poem is not a happy poem. It is expressing loss, but once you have read it and understand it or just say, huh? let it go, if you share my sentiment, and reconnect with the natural beauty that surrounds us and heals us, if we give it, at least, a moment of our time.
Mad Cows
Stewing in your mad cow gravy,
slicing off a piece of white bread toast,
turning from your friends that raised you,
leaving us behind who loved you most,
slapping on a cuff of opposition,
bowing to the death of savoir-faire,
singing in the choir of full submission,
donning your red cap and golden hair.
Where are those young hearts that beat out laughter?
Who is that Strong Man who stole your soul?
Why is this the way we raise the rafter?
When will we all see the Holy Ghost,
beckoning the crowds with ethereal fingers,
nodding with a smile
he'll raise a toast.
Then the mighty man will turn defeated,
tripping up the steps
then to the sky,
signaling to his host of opposition,
my work is finally done
and so am I.
That's the day the clouds will host the angels dancing.
That's the day we'll see the demons cry.
Peace. Love, Linda
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