If I were a Tree
with deep roots,
strong bark standing majestically tall in the Sky:
I would not be grateful.
I would complain that I cannot walk the earth or glide the Sky.
I am a human being.
Armed with righteous authority of legal title
to a piece of land I call home, backyard and all,
A Bee made its hive no more than a foot by foot
on the side of my deck,
Does not the Bee know I am the owner of this all; I have a paper to say so?
I set out to destroy the hive.
Confused, the Bee asked:
How do humans live?
Cannot a Hungry Child eat a fruit in plain sight?
Cannot a Homeless Family build its nest on vacant land?
Is that not the Law of “It” who you call God?
“We are civilized,” I informed the Bee.
“We respect both the Fat and the Hungry; the Homeless and the Sheltered:
A child may eat a hanging fruit in plain sight as long a fence and titled deed gives her the right;
The homeless may build on vacant land not owned by someone else.
Yes, this does not feed and shelter all
but without our laws chaos would ensue and civilizations crumble.”
The Bee fled thinking all the while:
I have not seen hunger or thirst following “It”:
Unto man his laws.
I have not seen a Mightier Fool.
Adam Cohen, the son of Leonard Cohen, is a gifted poet and musician in his own right. Here is the song he wrote for his son-a good love song to sing if the world were to end
Charity feeds me one day,
keeps me hungry 364.
You sanctify the Way things Are at my expense:
You feel content for one day’s giving while I starve 364.
I rather you burn your Crescent and Cross (*1)
and starve with me: Then you will see the tyranny of the Way things Are
and the Evil of your Charity:
while I starve in poverty without a today or tomorrow.
Charity is Satan’s cloak:
You presume to give what is not yours.
Foot Note 1: The reference to “You rather burn your Crescent and Cross” is not to be taken literally. Both Christianity and Islam are great religions. The purpose is to invite the reader to ponder on the hypocrisy of those who take the shell and abandon the spirit of their religion. To that extent it is to be taken literally.
When all is said and done
in the silence of Night a Voice Speaks:
All Meaning is Created,
In the company of millions
We will walk alone to Nothingness.
And if you be lucky
an Illusion of meaning and hope will accompany you to your end.
There is no Santa, Dear Child-
God, even a bigger Lie:
But this truth is not for You.
Never expect a gift beyond what you can create:
Find your gifts under the Christmas Tree.
Note: The poem should not be taken literally. I do “believe” in “God”. These are expressions of experience. I hope and pray that you find your gifts beyond what you yourself can create!
I have a dream that my life will never have a conclusion;
That the wooden doors will never limit me;
I have a dream that the leaves of a tree will never drift away;
That the owl will never close it’s watchful eyes.
Someday I will realize that I am not in reality,
but until then,
Let me Dream.