Violence

The Bell

/ Korin Thomas / Leave a comment

When bombs drop
drones strike
snipers fire
who is killed
but I?
The bell keeps its toll
Bong
Bong
Bong
ringing in the pale cloudless evening
peeling in the song of morning birds
clanging
can’t it stop clanging?

It tolls for me
I made it so
I pushed the button
looked through the sight
pulled the trigger.
You say I did not
I say I did
for all that I did not.

Taps is played
flags furled, found
trampled in the dirt
of places I’ve never been.
We make our way home
in the quiet of night
have a cocktail
cheer the brave lads
sleep disquieted sleep.

Portland, Oregon – April 27, 2016

As an American citizen, if I do not recognize my part in the horrors inflicted on the world by our weapons and our own brand of terrorism, then I am just choosing blindness.

Of course, inspired by the Rev. John Donne’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls.”

The Ignorant Fist

/ Korin Thomas / Leave a comment

IMG_20160101_143657693 (003)It starts inside
the end of violence in the world
the end of anger.
I find myself in my fear.
I recognize it, take hold of it
slowly make it release its tight hold
on my past, my now, my coming to be,
even if it takes a lifetime.
Slowly, freedom of the unclenched heart comes,
without flag, country, anthem, or drumbeat.
Waking in the morning
determined to peel away, forcibly at times,
the clutching grasp of fear;
say goodbye to it, daily,
and, on death’s bed, forever.

January 2, 2016 – Portland, Oregon

Photo taken of an exterior wall in NE Portland. Seemed like a good New Year’s resolution. From the poet and Islamic mystic, Rumi.

Advent – For Our Enemies

/ Korin Thomas / Leave a comment

It is now the solemn season of peace
when we wait for the Holy One;
wait for a sacred stillness and loving-kindness
a peace beyond all imagining
to be born within us.
We are the Holy Ones
who give birth to the peace for which we long.
We pray for our enemies,
for men and women –
today in foreign cities
tonight in our own towns –
whose thoughts are tangled up in a violent story
whose ending is too terrible to say.
We bring them, especially them,
the peace we seek.
They are wounded, fearful, angry, and afraid
as we are.
They are confused, frustrated, and overwhelmed,
like us, so like us.
They are mourning the loss of someone
or some ideal of a life they thought could be theirs,
just as we mourn our dead and our broken dreams.
They are strangers in a strange land.
We pray for them.
We welcome them in our deep and open hearts,
hearts not crushed in spite of reasons to be crushed,
hearts that still have a place for our enemies.
If they do not have a welcoming place in us
then they have no place at all.
If they have no place at all
they will bring the fruit of their emptiness to bear
in dark and consuming violence.
Our suffering will continue.
This is the day, a day of waiting
to see whether our hearts will open or close.

The season asks us to choose.

Portland, Oregon – December 2015