People
tell me
Try
to laugh at life
I
smile
and
find joy in children's laughter
the
swaying of trees and singing of birds
I
close my eyes and sigh
as
I hear
trickling
water
feeding
the earth
growing
the food to maintain our existence
Everywhere
I look
I
find glimpses of beauty-
the
root of joy
In
all things green and pure
But
to laugh at the foolishness of man
the
biased hate of black and white
the
stomping pride of arrogance
Shameless
boasting and obscenity
the
whirling laughter of intoxicating power -
In
these, there is no joy
The
hardness of the human heart!
How
many are buried
whose
hearts died long ago?
Like
hardened earth that leaves no trace of footsteps
unlike
soft green grass that
bears
the imprint of those who pass
Hardened
hearts
blossom
into beauty
when
truth and softness
cover
their darkness with light
We
eat, we drink, we sleep, we work,
we
love, we hate
our
birth is followed by our death
its
time unknown
All
that's really ours
is
what our hands have sent forth
In
a world where virtue is scorned
Time
passes like sands through an hour glass
like
the steady motion of a sinking ship
and
we, on board
oblivious
to its downward turn
To
the very end
are
we bent on laughter?
While
others weep,
can
we smile -
When
cries of injustice
echo
in our ears?
Laughter!
like
so many bubbles of joy
on
waves of inhumanity.
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Hands
determinedly digging
through
sand, rocks and shells
pounding,
pumping and preparing
magnificent
mounds of living structure.
Like castles of sand
on
a burning beach,
our
cities emerge
from
lifeless barren soil.
A
network of confusion
erupting
into violence and hate.
Only the rich can have
the
upper windows
that
look out and on, away
from
the mess their hands
have
formed.
The others, stifled
sitting
in houses
awaiting
death.
Seizing,
grasping any kind of joy
that
comes their way,
even
if their joy claims
that
of others.
Stagnated youth, lying helpless at the end of
a needle
Stolen
innocence of childhood appeasing the lusts of
men
Tyrannical
credit cards
seizing
wealth that does not exist,
pulling
people into poverty
in
the name of freedom.
Beware! the tide always comes
what
we think is permanent, stable and prolonged
disappears
in an instant.
Our
castles of sand
that
cost so much of life and beauty to build,
will
one day,
all
be washed away.
Note:
Above 2 poems submitted by Ayça BAHÇA
for the When Peace Comes Poetry Event - 2004
on October 27, 2003.
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