Poets!
Poets everywhere!
Let us join the cellist of Sarajevo
Who in a moment clarity
walked into the middle of the city square,
set his cello in the midst of madness
and played his heart out.

Played into the open air
his plea for sanity.

I hear him pull his bow
and still the air with plaintive song,
a saraband of joy and grief for all to hear,
To ask us all to come to our senses
and listen.

Lay down your arms,
Still your fear,
Hold each other,
let my music air its
calm and measured argument.
Listen. Please.

This is not
about who is right,
who is wrong.
Not about who was first,
or worse off,
weaker or strong…

Are you well?
Do you need help?
Do you still write?
Can you still love?

I think of you often.
I wish you knew.

For a moment of wonder,
a moment of splendor,
we listened
and remembered.

Remembered the village quiet,
the contented path at the edge of the brook,
flowers dancing to distant music
lifting in the breeze.

Remembered friends and loved ones
singing hymns together.
Standing up to see the bride

I remember that night
when I gathered
the courage to love you

Without such memories,
the cellist, explains,
Whats the point? Don’t you see?

Do you think such things
are secured by terrorizing one another?

The question hangs in the air
almost tenderly,
asking us to consider his plea.

Poets!
Poets everywhere!
Let us take up his song!