Tag Archives: poetry

Silent Witnesses

Sometimes being peacemakers is about grand gestures and loud voices. Sometimes it is about powerful people making difficult choices. And sometimes it is about the tiny gestures in the places where we are. The outstretched hand, the smile at a stranger, the cup of tea. The choice to love instead of judge, to forgive instead of retaliating. Sometimes peace needs to be loud. Sometimes whispered. Sometimes silent.

Silent Witnesses

These are the silent witnesses

Who stretch out a hand in love, Who feed the hungry so that they can live Who teach the young so that they can grow Who create a space so that you can be you And I can be me

These are the silent witnesses

Whose message is one of love That tells the forgotten ones they are not forgotten And the unlovely they can still be loved Whose message is shared in a smile A spark of the joy of life

These are the silent witnesses

Who say there is more to life Turning away from economic profitability Trusting rather in human value Who say You cannot put a price on love

These are the silent witnesses

Who say Though I cannot do it all Yet will I do what I can Who know they offer only a gesture But know that gesture is already enough The gesture that says I care The gesture that we call love

These are the silent witnesses

This is the silent witness Arms stretched wide on a wooden cross With a sigh of lonely abandonment And a waiting in silent love

We are the silent witnesses To the mystery of our faith.

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John Dear uses the first words of this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay in his book “Lazarus Come Forth!”. For me, the whole poem is a powerful reminder of what it would mean to reject death and to exist affirming life, and no more so than this year as we think about the start of the first world war, and how the powers lined up to participate in an almighty blood bath.  It is important to remember that in the UK alone, over 20,000 men of military age refused to go to war, and many spent time in prison, and though nowadays our means of resisting war are different (unless you find yourself in the military), the discourse of violence and death is still very powerful.

Conscientious Objector

I shall die, but
that is all that I shall do for Death.
I hear him leading his horse out of the stall;
I hear the clatter on the barn-floor.
He is in haste; he has business in Cuba,
business in the Balkans, many calls to make this morning.
But I will not hold the bridle
while he clinches the girth.
And he may mount by himself:
I will not give him a leg up.

Though he flick my shoulders with his whip,
I will not tell him which way the fox ran.
With his hoof on my breast, I will not tell him where
the black boy hides in the swamp.
I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death;
I am not on his pay-roll.

I will not tell him the whereabout of my friends
nor of my enemies either.
Though he promise me much,
I will not map him the route to any man’s door.
Am I a spy in the land of the living,
that I should deliver men to Death?
Brother, the password and the plans of our city
are safe with me; never through me Shall you be overcome.

Edna St. Vincent Millay
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