From these hunched and aching shoulders
Let drop the onuses of work and duty,
Worries, fears and fretful tears. O merciful
Gods of health and welfare, ease up the
Ache of pressure, introduce me to the
Odes of pleasure. Weary am I of worldly
Cares, and dream I of shores with sands
Aplenty; wash my sweat away with your
Fresh young waves, drink me in to your
Warmth of acceptance. Punishment, I
Do assure you, will not make me stronger
Or more efficient. Send in the fairies of
Fairness; there ought to be fairies of fairness
To fan their wings and blow the fear away.
From these weary hands please remove
Merciless calendar dates of chores, that
I may do good with what strength is left
To shore up the good in man and hold
The aches and pains of others at bay. We are
Born as fellow man, not as foe; foedom
Is an artificial reef in life, set to trap
And to destroy the weaker ones and mild.
Such imbalance does not serve.
From these tired eyes take these scenes
Of hurt, the pain of the bullied, the cry
Of the weary, the ache of the lost, the crime
Of murder and mayhem. These old eyes have
Seen enough – nay, way too much of such
Tortured souls and unhealed hurting. Let there
Be no more, it is so very wrong.
From this world take away the sins of Man
And heal the holes in souls they have hurt.
From vocabulary, erase the power of words
That wound, that Man may not know how
To desecrate and wound and kill.
From the Heart of Man, scale the weighty scales of
Infidelity, distrust, suspicion, jealousy and
Hate. Infuse him instead with the kiss of
Kindness. Let him understand the true
Meaning of
Peace.
From these hunched and aching shoulders
Let drop
The fate of a Prometheus Bound.
Let them wear the mantle of Peace.
–H. W. Bryce
—
Image by intographics from Pixabay
