WE'LL TRY!

If this world survives, and every other day I think it might,
In good part it will be because of the great souls in our community.

There are a lot of them.

I've seen them walk in lonely thousands down a city's streets,
Or hand out leaflets in the rain, or turn the handle of a print machine, or empty their pockets as the plate comes by,
or gaze into the camera's eye.

And answer the question: "Will the world survive?"
And they have said, "We’ll try. "We'll try."


Thanks to Wendy Clarissa Geiger for sending us this inspiring message from Malvina Reynolds.
Live and Love,
Peg

Please Speak Up

"Please Speak Up"
by Sybil Bayles,
University Friends Meeting (Seattle, WA), 1994

O Friend who mumblest when thee speaks
We urge, we beg, entreat you
Shriek
Rather than have one precious word be lost
Be sure, when thou art moved to speak
Thou wilt be held
In light
Endearing
By those of us with
Impaired hearing

"The Story Teller" by Will D. Kidd

She lay with her head on grandpa's breast
In the easy chair that provided rest
And a setting, too, for the tales he told
To the light of his life - the four-year old.
She knew the charm of his cozy nook
When he read to her from a story book,
And the thrill, whatever her mood or whim,
When he rocked and cuddled her close to him
And so she had gone once more to hear
Of the odd little folk who would gather near
And scamper about, as the fairies will,
And talk with her - if she kept real still.
On his lap she listened, quite content,
Till after a time both heads were bent,
And the story lagged, and his voice was low,
And he rocked no longer to and fro.
They slept; and hers was the sleep of those
Who wake refreshed from a sweet repose,
And turning then to the rising sun
Essay life's mission of work well done.
And the grandpa slept, as she nestled there
Against his breast in the easy chair;
But his was the sleep of the sinking sands,
Of the journey's end - of the folded hands -
Of the broken chain, and the shadows gray -
With a little girl lighting him on his way.


Best wishes
Peg

Prison - Quigley's Poem

Dear Friends,

I asked Bill Quigley to send us his great poem about choosing prison.

Here it is:

April 05, 2004

Dear Friends:

Many of our friends are doing last minute tasks to get ready to report to prison Tuesday. If you know any of them, I encourage you to send them your love and support at this time. Last year, in the middle of the night, I was unable to sleep as some of you began your first night in prison. After beating up my pillow and bed, I got up and wrote this poem. With you, my friends, I share it. Keep our friends in your spirits.

Peace and love,
Bill Quigley

Yesterday My Friend Chose Prison
Dedicated to the SOA prisoners of conscience

Yesterday my friend walked freely into prison
Chose to violate a simple law to spotlight the evilof death squads and villages of massacred people that we cannot even namemothers and children and grandparents butchered buriedand forgotten by most, but not by my friend.

Yesterday my friend stepped away
from loves and family and friends
was systematically stripped of everything,
everythingand systematically searched everywhere,
everywherewas systematically numbered
and uniformed and advised and warned
clothes and underwear and shoes
and everything put in a cardboard box,
taped and mailed away

Yesterday my friend joined the people
we put in the concrete and steel boxes
mothers and children and fathers
that we cannot even name
in prison for using and selling drugs
in prison for trying to sneak into this country
in prison for stealing and scamming
and fighting and killing
but none were there for the massacres
no generals, no politicians,
no under-secretaries, no ambassadors

Yesterday my friend had on a brave face
avoiding too much eye contact
with the stares of hundreds of strangers
convicts, prisoners, guards, snitches
not yet knowing good from bad
staying out of people’s business
hoping to find a small pocket of safety
and kindness and trust in the weeks ahead

Last night my friend climbed into bed in prison
an arm’s length away from the other prisoner
slaying awake on the thin mattress
wondering who had slept there last
wondering how loved ones were sleeping
awake through flashlight bed checks
and never-ending noises echoing off
the concrete floors and walls
some you never ever want to hear

Yesterday my friend chose prison over silence
chose to stand with the disappeared
and those who never counted
chose to spend months inside hoping to change us outside
chose the chance to speak truth to power and power
responded with prison
Though my heart aches for my friend in prison
no one on this planet is more free.

A Thansgiving poem

A THANKSGIVING POEM

Twas the night of Thanksgiving. I Just couldn't sleep. I tried counting backwards. I tried counting sheep.

The leftovers beckoned, the dark meat and white. But I fought the temptation with all of my might.

Tossing and turning with anticipation, the thought of a snack became infatuation.

So I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door, and gazed at the fridge full of goodies galore. I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes, pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.

I felt myself swelling so plump and so round. 'Til all of a sudden, I rose off the ground.

I crashed through the ceiling, floated into the sky, with a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie.

But I managed to yell as I soared past the trees:

"Happy eating to all, pass the cranberries, please.
May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump;
May your potatoes 'n gravy have nary a lump. May your yams be delicious. May your pies take the prize.
May your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs!

Peg

When I'm an old lady

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with my son,
And bring so much happiness...just as they did.
I want to pay back all the joy they've provided.
Returning each deed! Oh, they'll be so excited!

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with my son,
I'll write on the wall with reds, whites and blues,
And I'll bounce on the furniture. ..wearing my shoes.
I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I'll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they'll shout!

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with my son,
When they're on the phone and just out of reach,
I'll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, they'll snap their fingers and then shake their head,

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with my son,
When they cook dinner and call me t o eat,
I'll not eat my green beans or salad or meat,
I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
And when they get angry...I'll run...if I'm able!

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with my son,
I'll sit close to the TV, through the channels
I'll click, I'll cross both eyes just to see if they stick.
I'll take off my socks and throw one away,
And play in the mud 'til the end of the day!

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with my son,
And later in bed, I'll lay back and sigh,
I'll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes.
My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
And say with a groan, "She's so sweet when she's sleeping!"

God Bless All Moms and Grandmas Everywhere!