Poems

Calm

They’ll be puzzled, and will ask,
but how are they so calm?
For sure it is the shell shock, 

to protect it against harm. 

But no, it’s preparation,
or better being prepared,
the molding of all the clay,
to be prepared, not scared.

Have you reached the core,
the centre of your peace?
Have you put on your traveling shoes,
your soul and heart and fleece?

The canaries in the coal mine,
they sang for the right now,
Talking Heads or Cohen,
or Orinoco Flow.

Did you get the gist,
and train the eyes to see?
If so, it will be just a twist,
in your sobriety.

History is but the proof,
of each philosophy.
Let it only be a twist,
in your sobriety.

Photo: “The Milkmaid” (Vermeer, 1658)

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