A FAMILY IN THE MORNING

Michael Peterson

1995

I slept last night to a sense of support,
Of caring friends who smiled and hugged
And jested with me in my embarassment
But who, I knew, would never hurt but heal.

I wake this morning with joy in my heart
And love in my soul
And visions of the multitude of us ALL
Singing, dancing.
Lifting in smiles and hope.

At breakfast I watch the cardinal across the yard
Near the pond chirping and drinking
And see the new cold sun
Sending rays of warmth and gladness.

I think and wonder.
Can we be Family, Friends, Community? 
Is the search for Power, 
	Ego, Recognition, Control, 
The bogus shams for a real sense of self, 
So strong, our willingness 
	to hurt to gain these so great, 
That Community is a dream of the visionary, 
As lasting as the dew on an August day? 

I remember. I was hurt, 
Cast to the ground by hate 
	and a fever pitch of fury 
Carried out in the solemn tones of 
	bureaucracy. 

I hid. 
I could not look out. 
I cried. 
You called me and told me: "Do not forget." 
You told me my life was important, 
	my passion, my ideas. 
You gave me hope. 

And to you also I turned. 
Call upon call and an answer. 
And you stood with me, listening, 
	comforting, protecting me. 
We were angry together. 
We were hurt together. 
We shared with one another 
	and supported one another, 
Learning and caring, 
Becoming close. 

Family. 
Community. 

The light circles on the pond 
And the wind wafts over the frozen ice 
That covers the pond. 
The sun glistens gleaming on the snow. 
And the peace I feel gives me hope 
For another day. 


BACK TO MY PAGE