Diplomacy Council

They really care.

Makes them a little scary,

But since nonviolence is in the portfolio

It seems safe to assist.

Tasks are easily assigned

When the entire organization consists of four.

Delegation means choosing a different

Tone of voice.

A peanut-sized staff offers a second advantage:

You will not suffer message disintegration.

What demands you make not succeed,

But not because of a failure to communicate.

This merry band of few,

Underpaid and overworked,

Busies itself with aliens.

No, not the green ten head-ed kind.

Their job is to reach, reach across borders,

Oceans, skin pigments, languages,

Religious distinctions and time,

In search of shared concerns and solutions.

Day to day enthusiasm is not a cynic’s delight,

Thus, I view the determination to add value

That these insufferable people bring to their job

A resolution that is suspect. They really care.

Time To Go

Why this bridge?

Plenty of room for walkers,

Easy to clear the railing

And the water is warm.

I have turned this into a big event.

Not that crowds will witness my jump,

Just enough to mark the occasion,

And my mother will be notified.

I’ve printed my name in my collar to facilitate identification.

All these years ...and still I accuse my mother.

In truth, I don’t know what she could have done.

I was headed here 20 years ago.

Strange, I should care about warm water.

From the top of a 100 foot leap

I’ll hit an unforgiving surface.

SPLAT.

The kid will be better off.

My mom will be a better mother.

At least she wont have to support me.

I am so scared, so very very scared.

Risk

 Jeff understood that some issues are taboo.

This guys’ lunch group will force him to change the subject.

That’s OK, as long as he kept their attention.

What would happen if he let go?

Would asking questions work?

Could he limit the flow of comments?

What happens when they drifted away?

Is that a sign he is not welcome?

There will always be risks.

Can he back off and allow the conversation

To come to him, and

Accept that it might not?

He knew John would try to change the subject,

Pushing Mel or Wally into the dialogue.

What does it matter?

Can he trust these guys?

Jeff has lost control more than once,

Creating imaginary obstacles to acceptance.

His brain and humor should be enough.

But he will never risk the isolation.

It's Not My Business

Caught between the compulsion

To express an opinion that may help

And an awareness that my offering 

May be pure ego and very much unappreciated,

I usually side with exercising 

Mouth and jaw.

Sure, there’s a risk I’ll be perceived

As an asshole who understands nothing,

Failing to recognize the recipient of my excellent advice

Would gladly settle for a mumbled “tsh, tsh”.

Finally, I see I do have a choice,

And if I can slow down long enough to appreciate

The existence of an option,

Whatever I decide might just represent wisdom.

Amortizing the Sun

I can’t get my schedule right.

I’d like to get an hour of luxuriant sunshine,

Which means doing some things earlier, or later

Than I had intended.

Of course if I got out of bed earlier

I would not find myself in this position.

On the other hand if it turns cloudy,

I won’t get any sun.

Maybe I should fly to Hawaii,

It’s invariably sunny this time of year.

That would mean no exercise

And I’d have to cancel golf.

Why do all these troubles end up on my plate?

Jeez, I forgot about the funeral

For the guy who delivered my new furniture.

I knew he shouldn’t have tried to lift that sofa.

I don’t suppose he’ll miss me.

And I never met his girlfriend.

A nice card will show those assembled

That I’m a good guy.

Meanwhile I’m making a mess of my new slacks,

And I don’t have a good hat to wear on Maui.

Aren’t I going a little far for an hour of sun?

I’d better go to that new breakfast place and reconsider.

Zinc

 It was a very hard call.

Offering condolences to a bereft parent

Is too wrenching if you are not drawn to tears.

You are naked, with useless words.

I knew this was not his first tragedy.

I could not imagine not making the call

While knowing the man must be suffering

In a way I could not understand.

I hoped Zinc would not be home.

He answered the phone

And I pleaded inadequacy,

Unable to follow my very short script.

Zinc consoled me,

Pointing out that my call mattered

And he was grateful.

Music

 In the mid-morning sunlight on this June day,

A hatless bald bass player stands,

In Old Town Square, Prague,

Tuning his instrument.

As he begins to play an eight year old girl

With serious eyes puts a coin in his upturned hat,

And stands awaiting his music.

A Cellist joins him.

The two musicians softly introduce an old warhorse:

“Ode To Joy”.

A French Horn and two Viola’s join the music-makers.

Our serious child is now part of a growing audience.

As the opening notes are being repeated by twenty

Casually dressed instrumentalists, a choral group

Forms a half circle behind the orchestra,

And children of every age stand entranced.

One young girl climbs a street-light pole

To gain a superior view, as two little boys

Compete with the conductor,

Waving their arms, and occasionally leaping, to the swelling sound.

While a few souls attend to their shopping

Those who hear, really hear, and see this performance,

Are lifted by a memory or a dream

To a place where, for a few precious moments, all is joy.