Wage Peace

5 years. It's hard to believe it's been so long already. Until I think of all the damage that's been wrought in the world since. Afghanistan. (remember that war? yes, it's still going on, getting worse recently) Iraq. (how many have died now?) Torture. Secret-wire taps. Guantanamo. The Geneva Conventios in shreds. And meanwhile the attacks against civilians continue: London, Madrid, Turkey, Jordan. Marla Ruzicka, Tom Fox, and so many unnamed. And the Middle East in flames again. And suddenly five years seems such a short time for so much loss.

September 11 remains a bit of a blur to me. A few unforgettable moments: Hearing the reports of the attacks live on my walkman as I walked up 2nd Ave. on my way to work. Watching the UN evacuate and deciding we better leave too. Sitting with coworkers in Quaker House watching the buildings collapse on TV, over and over. "Oh my God, all those people." Finding friends and wondering what to do: donate blood? try to help? Somehow making it back to Brooklyn with Amy, we didn't want to spend that night alone. Sharing a pitcher of beer at an outside bar, the place was packed, everyone having the same confused conversation. Everyone in shock.

The next day, climbing onto my roof with the view of Manhatten. A huge cloud of gray smoke where the towers use to stand. The anger and hate that filled a neighbor. The Muslim community, once so visible in Astoria, suddenly gone, out of sight. Hearing the news, a friend's father and brother, firefighters, disappeared in the rubble. Oh my God, all these people.

5 years. And so many lives still being lost. This can't be the only memorial we have - endless war and policies of fear. What happened to that moment of possibility? When all the world was with us? When we could have stood with dignity and courage against the fear and killing? Rather than be swept up into it. There must be more. 5 years is too long, too short.

Wage Peace
by Mary Oliver

Wage peace with your breath.
Breathe in firemen and rubble,
breathe out whole buildings
and flocks of redwing blackbirds.
Breathe in terrorists and breathe out sleeping children
and freshly mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees.
Breathe in the fallen
and breathe out lifelong friendships intact.
Wage peace with your listening:
hearing sirens, pray loud.
Remember your tools:
flower seeds, clothes pins, clean rivers.
Make soup.
Play music, learn the word for thank you in three languages.
Learn to knit, and make a hat.
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries,
imagine grief as the outbreath of beauty
or the gesture of fish.
Swim for the other side.
Wage peace.
Never has the world seemed so fresh and precious.
Have a cup of tea and rejoice.
Act as if armistice has already arrived.
Don't wait another minute.