
Cynthia Dagnal-Myron
Neruda knew what to do with sacred times like these...

I didn't write the words I want you to read--and heed--today.
Rob Brezsny offered this up today, a poem from Pablo Neruda, along with his horoscopes. And it was so beautiful and appropriate that I had to share it. THINK about this:
KEEPING QUIET
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
Translation of this poem by Pablo Neruda is by Alistair Reed
P.S.: Did you like the read? Go to the RANDOM home page, scroll down and SUBSCRIBE. Got MUGS, too...