IV

Sometimes darkness dominates. 
Young men step on mines. 
Young women visit markets 
where, lying in stealth, 
are bombs and lost limbs 
and a future robbed of hope.  
Shunned cripples, abandoned, 
robbed of hope, dare not dream.  
But you have healing in your hands 
Your gift dances through rooms 
once shuttered and dark. 
Then curtains billow 
and from grey days spring
fresh petals of brightness. 
Songs of tomorrow sound again. 
To some you bring the blue of day. 
You cannot fix everything 
but you can sweep some darkness away.


V

We are only our dreams
so why shouldn’t we,
with prophets and seers,
float out of our darkened window
on a beam of pure light,
soaring high above the fog, 
floating on cushions of air 
beyond swamp and desert
to see, just over the horizon,
a new world rising out of the dark,
that one where justice descends
like the morning dew,
swords are beaten into ploughshares
and peace, like a mantle,
covers the glistening earth. 

(First appeared in One Sentence Poems )


VI

We have heard the orphan's cry 
and the widow’s groan.
We have seen the limbless victims of war.
We turn to both suffering and joy, 
taking what gifts we can, 
your healing hands, 
our touch, soft and gentle as a kiss,
our words, kind like healing balm
and our empathy that is palm to palm.