The Face of Peace

The voice of worry
Whispers
In the ears
Of my jaded soul’s
Fitful attempts
To rest my eyes
From the landscape
Of my broken dreams
In the forsaken sky
Of my busted wings;
Its discordant tune
Humming a boisterous
Music that knows
No melody;
Chanting lyrics
That cut through
The hope that resides
Within me.

I fumble for
The white handkerchief
To throw it
Into the arena
Of my struggles.

But then I get
A glimpse of you
Just lying in your cradle
And suddenly
My lips refuse
To pronounce the name
Of surrender.

You sigh softly,
Allowing me to hear
The rhythm
Of your heart,

Reminding me
The texture
Of the love
You brought
From up above.

The discordant
Music fades,
Now replaced
By the hymn
Of your praise.

I watch your face,
The rise and fall
Of your chest,
Not realizing
I’m being hypnotized
To allow myself
To be hugged
By the calmness
Of your peace.

I fold
The handkerchief
Of defeat
And put it back
To where I cannot
Get it.
I’ve no use
For it now;

My wings
Are fixed once again
To soar towards
The vast sky
Of life’s hurdles.

I bend over,
Allowing myself
To drink in
The softness
Of your sighs.

Then I whisper
Into your ears:
“Thank you, Manman,
For showing me
The face of peace.”


//Sherma E. Benosa
27 August 2008; 10:50am

Posted as a contribution to the Picture-inspired poem challenge at Bilingual Pen.

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Check out my other blogs:
Bard and Brain
Photo.Graphic Thoughts
Taeng ni Ayat