When the kids start fighting, I stand. As sides are
taken at the office, I slide away from the burled
table, button my jacket and rise in the fluorescents’ buzz.
The moment the evening news shows footage of
combat I’m off the couch. And, in Temple, when
the Rabbi reads, "An eye for an eye,” though my
wife tugs my sleeve, I take my stance, head bowed.
Year after year we mark the calendar and drive
out to the forests. Before we’re even home, the lesson,
and more than that, the peace is mostly gone. This time
I am holding fast.
The Buddhists sit. The Muslims and the Christians
kneel. Hare Krishnas dance for universal compassion.
I am standing with the trees.
