Shades of Twenty-Twenty vision
lie beneath abandoned cities
packed with disregarded lessons
of the centuries before.
Finally the veil has lifted,
there’s a purpose in tomorrow
and the memories are fading
from the year that brought the war.
Looking forward to commencement,
parties, proms, and lazy summer
leading into jobs or college,
we were only seventeen.
Some of us were undecided,
some had mapped a certain future
in the pattern of their parents.
Others saw behind the screen.
Since we entered kindergarten
we’d been tested, used, and herded
for political agendas
on the nation’s shrinking stage
so it wasn’t unexpected
when democracy imploded
in a world already reeling
from the chaos of the age.
Virus after virus followed,
claiming half the population.
News from other countries filtered
slowly through the riot zone
’til the power grid was severed.
While democracy imploded
we were scrabbling for survival.
Now we live on wits alone.
Here I stand, the single remnant
from a family of seven,
flanked by unified companions
whose intention can increase
coexistence with the planet.
Taking only what is needed,
with the help of one another
we will make a lasting peace.
2020 Mary Boren
Though headlines clamor, voices blare
and bitter arguments abound
in every fearful sector where
the chaos of the world is found,
each hibernating embryo
refuses to restrain its flow
of love beneath the silent snow.
When social order seems to fall
into the clutch of grasping hands,
a waiting surge is poised to call
upon the truth that countermands
the venom of contagious lies
before its spread can fertilize
the hopelessness in mournful cries.
Within the calm collective dream
of all-inclusive peace on earth
the universe emits a beam
directing to our own rebirth.
May every seedling labor through
the obstacles that block our view
of fellow feeling born anew.
2019 Mary Boren
View Discussion on this Poem
Imagining we know the score,
we’re suiting up to argue for
a noble cause, but harmony
eludes the grasp of “me me me”
engaging in a psychic war.
The value placed on “more more more”
instead of peace defies the spore
evolving in humanity’s
Civility’s esprit de corps
is fading like the dinosaur
but listen, learn, and love, lest we
become the people we abhor
Mary Boren, 2017
Pompous politicians yammer,
pundits propagate the threat.
Trolls and bloggers join the clamor
spread across the Internet.
News reports reflect an image
of a nation on the brink,
polarized and poised to scrimmage.
People, stop. Be still and think.
Some are healthier than others,
some are wracked by pain or greed.
All are born of human mothers,
longing for the peace we need.
Can’t we learn to share the planet,
set aside the plots and ploys?
Stifle fearful hate — don’t fan it —
filter out the surface noise.
We the People, friends and neighbors,
sisters, brothers, husbands, wives,
quietly attend our labors
leading ordinary lives.
Bonded by conciliation,
we can raise a voice that’s strong,
blessed beyond imagination,
if we simply get along.
Mary Boren, 2012
Painting by Dario Campanile, 2010, to commemorate the 5-year traveling exhibit:
“Missing Peace Found: Artists Consider the Dalai Lama”
A field of energy surrounds
exhibit halls, artistic grounds
where wisdom flows. A soft wind blows
from Mexico to Greece.
In joining hands around the globe
to touch the Dalai Lama’s robe,
the threads connect; hearts intersect
at avenues to peace.
Emerging from the planet’s core,
the whisper soon becomes a roar —
a rising tide to cast aside
suspicion, hate and fear.
With absolute impunity,
the world embraces unity
when chaos ends. It all depends
on everybody here.
Compassion for our brother’s plight
must hold a candle through the night.
All cannot rest while one’s oppressed.
erode our fundamental soul.
Each person fills a vital role;
we’re called to be the change we see
in dreams. Let kindness reign!
Mary Boren, 2011
The form is called quaintrelle.
I had an energizing dream about a peaceful morning
when everyone alive awakes renewed.
The air is pure, the water clean, no hint of global warming,
and no one lacks for shelter, clothes, or food.
The planet is awash with gratitude.
What happened to the weary world and all its weight of sorrow?
What monumental, unforeseen event
could render feuds forgotten as an ominous tomorrow
became today? By mutual assent,
nobody even wonders where it went.
But as the dreamer, watching from a cloud at twelve-eleven,
I saw exactly how the shift occurred.
It’s not like everybody had to die to go to heaven.
The earth turned upside down, imbalance blurred,
and in that moment, inner vision stirred.
So now it’s spring in Perth and autumn in the Rocky Mountains.
Affluence is devalued, hope annealed.
As fear is toppled to the bottom, overflowing fountains
of love ascend to trump the sword and shield.
The veil has lifted; heaven is revealed.
Mary Boren, 2011