S.O.S. A Sparrow Falls. by Carol Argyris

I am not a silent poet

Warm thoughts are necessary
to wrap a dressing over exposed nerves
protect them from the stinging air.
They are the opiates that bring sleep,
make waking possible.
It grows harder to conjure them,
easier to despair.
A million children starve
daily, bombs amputate limbs, 
decapitate, kill dreams,
destroy all peace
and rip through hope.
For heaven’s sake
cast spotlights on beauty,
on cathedrals, on churches,
make stained glass glow.
Not all we have created is ugly.
Illuminate ancient city walls
moss-covered, softened, 
no longer borders.
Shine light on statues of other gods
who promised nothing
were equally cruel
yet somehow more humane
understanding as they did 
the human condition, living it.
Make ruined abbeys beautiful,
halo them in luminescence,
let penumbral shadow 
soothe the sight
of cardboard city sleepers
drugged against the night.
Let light 
put aching hearts to rest
for a while
to Save…

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