Meanwhile reflecting on the many events of terror which seem to continue to expand upon our planet earth, horrors which seem to rob us of both safety and peace of mind, last night, I sat at my desk and began to write a new poem. Poetry, you see, is my life. Yet, my life would be nothing but a giant balloon of lifelessness would I not possess the courage and willingness to share my poems with others. I couldn’t stand such life stifling dread, such purposeless waste of vitality and time. It was past midnight, by now. There was a peaceful silence floating in the air like feathers, one that appeased the inner disquiet unlike anything else. A whisper ran swiftly through my ears, provoking the thought that no meaningful sentiment shall ever be mushed down into mere nothingness. Thus, I began to write.
It suddenly and forcefully crept upon me, that responsibility is an inevitable demand of life not one soul can escape from. Repelled by fear and what fear does to human life, my mind began to bask in ideas related to change. I started thinking about how change can be made possible in a world that seems so fractured and frightened, questioning what are the prerequisites of change. A picture of this appeared in my mind, like a painting, framing not a senseless emptiness but a strength of mind and heart that can unite and triumph over any challenge. The truth is that, more often than not, change is very much possible. The only thing that seems to continuously obstruct it is our own unwillingness to give it the consideration it deserves and the time of our lives it requires.
So much is happening in this world that is, to say in the least, disheartening. Part of it, I believe, is because people don’t have neither the courage to stand tall when staring fear in the eyes nor the strength to brace the idea that change is very attainable. I see plenty of bickering and finger pointing, which only lead to hurt and a waste of time. What I don’t see enough of, is a coalition that can compel and destroy the dreadful terrors which spread like cancer around the world. Yet, I am hopeful enough to think that the latter is possible. As a result, I wanted to encourage the idea that mankind is made of much more than bone. The power of change is really within us all. It requires a cup of nurture and about a teaspoon of willingness, to see it fulfilled. After all, we are not made of hollowness, even if certain people may like us to think that we are. We have a lot more to offer of ourselves, a lot more we can do, and a lot more to live for. No human life deserves to be subjugated to fear infused terror, to have the spirit turned into cold stone.
Made of More Than Bone
a poem by
Carmen A. Kraela
Nothing is fatuous, not for a moment
Is life the subject of impunity
Not even a blank page
Before it gets besmirched.
We spurn what is painfully distasteful
And eulogize transparent beauty
Inside a web of words
That are but only curtains.
We cannot mask but only shush away
The truth that shapes and bends
Heart’s blade of steel
Which aims to pierce despair.
If we could part away from reason
Earth wouldn’t need its thinkers
But puppeteers to exploit
Puppets’ lackluster spirits.
The world doesn’t need hollow dolls
But souls whose spines
Are made of more than bone
Most definitely not cold stone.