A photo by LS Wynn at www.wisegeek.org |
a balk that's penalized by runners
moving forward on the diamond,
one base closer to their goal of home.
The sort of home we live in, though,
requires the periodic balks of different
sorts or suffering will ensue. Awful words
must stall upon tongue's very tip, dark grip of
violence about to strike must catch itself
and stop, mid-air, before it finds intended mark.
About to lie or hurt, denying and defending self
when what is needed is to listen calmly, utter not
a sound, breathe deeply and perhaps just walk away
so like an agitated pitcher might, stepping off
the mound, the crowd all waiting
in the stands for peace to overcome.
the mound, the crowd all waiting
in the stands for peace to overcome.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment