Pt. I, Peace of Heart
Peace is not found in our designed diversions,
in the escapist blue glow
behind a closed bedroom door.
In halfhearted connections—
last night’s stranger who found refuge
on the empty side of your bed.
By masking your wounds,
veiled behind habits and miserable evasion—no,
peace is not found in the chronically immune.
In a dazed flat-back blow
to the barroom floor, is peace found
in that fragile numbness there?
Where was it hiding? So mysterious but simple—
for her oceans to settle, brighten and clear—
a mere irretrievable hope, obscured.
Peace was found in the gentle hope
a new sun brings, rising red dawn
through parted drapes.
In sunbeams settling on the face,
where the eyes that know, love and see her dwell,
peace was found there, in the calmest of certainty
and in the relief of despair.
In snow-frosted drives up rising peaks,
warmed in knowing laughter and ardent melodies.
Peace was found in that feeling,
that feeling during the brief quieted interlude,
when eyes meet and linger, and she knows
that feeling of safety as yet withheld,
safely just being loved, just being herself.