November 11: Veterans Day Sacrifices, Mary Oliver, "Gethsemane"

I will never know the feeling of being in a strange place, defending freedom, keeping peace.  It takes special, brave people.

However, I know that my right to write, express myself, criticize, worship, praise is not protected by the people sitting in Washington, D. C.  That work is done by people in uniform.

Saint Marty give thanks this Veterans Day for sacrifices.

Gethsemane

by:  Mary Oliver

The grass never sleeps.
Or the roses.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.

Jesus said, wait with me.  But the disciples slept.

The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.

Jesus said, wait with me.  And maybe the stars did, maybe
the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn't move,
     maybe
the lake far away, where once he walked as on a
     blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.

Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not
keep that vigil, how they must have wept,
so utterly human, knowing this too
must be a part of the story.

September 7: Mental Illness and President, John Ashbery, "People Behaving Badly a Concern"

Once again, the goings-on in the Oval Office have left me flummoxed and angry and sad this week, an emotional state that I should be used to by now.  I'm not.

There has been much made of mental illness and the current President of the United States.  I want to believe in an explanation like that, because it, at least, allows me to understand him in some way.  I get mental illness.  I don't, however, get people simply choosing to do bad things knowingly.  Letting poor people suffer with chronic illnesses.  Bringing the entire world to the brink of nuclear war.  Calling racists and Nazis "good people."

I know that good people sometimes do bad things.  I know bad people do good things. 

But Saint Marty doesn't understand how so many people in Washington, D. C., can simply behave so badly every day.

People Behaving Badly a Concern

by:  John Ashbery

Aggressive panhandling, public urination, verbal threats,
public nudity and violation of the open container law
followed us down the days, for why
are we here much longer,
or even this long? I ask you
to be civil and not interrupt night's business.

It was fun getting used to you,
who couldn't have been more nicer.
This was as modern as it had ever been.
They were influenced by him: some dirty magazine
on the air tonight. (Amid the chaos, reports of survivors.)

Didn't the flowers' restoration cat fugue keep spilling,
and like that? It wouldn't be the first time, either.
The pro-taffeta get up and laugh,
investigate or communicate. The night you were
going to stay up late, others will kiss,
and he talks about you, and I don't know what.
Come in, anyway,
and don't lack for tales of the Assertion.

We're talking civilian unrest.
Yes, well, maybe you should take one.

(Do not bite or chew.)

December 7: Eggnog, Maya Angelou, "Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem"

I am sitting in my classroom right now, not expecting any more students to arrive.  I don't care, though.  My work for the semester is over.  I have a cup of eggnog, a good movie, and about two hours to kill. 

Joyeux Noel, my film of choice, is about the Christmas Eve truce of 1914 during World War I, when German and French and Scottish and British soldiers laid down their weapons for one blessed night.  It's a beautiful piece of cinema.  Always brings me to tears.

The Maya Angelou poem I have chosen for tonight is about peace and Christmas.  Angelou first read it for the lighting of the National Christmas Tree in Washington, D. C., in 2005.  It was a time of war, and Angelou was making a case for peace.

Saint Marty thinks the world still needs to be reminded about peace right now.

Amazing Peace:  A Christmas Poem

by:  Maya Angelou

Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses.
Flood waters await us in our avenues.

Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and grey and threatening.

We question ourselves.
What have we done to so affront nature?
We worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?

Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.

It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner.
Flood waters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.

Hope is born again in the faces of children
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,
Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.

In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
It is loud now. It is louder.
Louder than the explosion of bombs.

We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.

We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.
Come and fill us and our world with your majesty.
We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian,
Implore you, to stay a while with us.
So we may learn by your shimmering light
How to look beyond complexion and see community.

It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.

On this platform of peace, we can create a language
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.

At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues at the coming of hope.
All the earth's tribes loosen their voices
To celebrate the promise of Peace.

We, Angels and Mortal's, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation.

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.