Pursuit of Peace - Elena Manzo

By Elena K. Manzo, 2015

What would you give for one day of rest?

No sudden alarms, blazing and roaring

Insisting you go somewhere and achieve.

Your house is silent, no ringing, no dinging,

No vacuuming, hammering, stomping of feet,

No need to make lunches, or dinner, or bed.

You fix yourself breakfast and brew your first coffee,

You watch it drip-drop, feel aroma explode.

You listen to birds, and see clouds collide,

And sit in your garden and watch spiders fight.

You dust your “must read” list and throw it away,

Then whip up some cookies, or ice cream, or pie,

And eat them straight up, with no worries for pounds,

Or extras, or dishes, or that horrible mess,

You grab your best pillow, exhale completely,

And fall right asleep, as pleased as can be.


What would you do for one month of freedom,

If it was suddenly offered to you? 

You’d come outside, and enjoy that sunshine

That patiently waited all winter for you.

You’d go through old pictures, or stacks of old notebooks,

And finish all things you’ve been wanting to do.

You knit and crochet, yank weeds, and fix flowers,

And finish that painting, or story, or book.

You lazy about and when fancy strikes,

You’d pack your old suitcase, and you,

You, fly to that place you have always imagined,

But never could really afford, or go to.

You watch beach umbrellas, and lapping warm water,

Or snow, or the mountains, or rooftops, or dew.

You sit in a lounge, by table or armchair,

And let fun adventures all come to you.


What would you do for one year of peace?

Quiet on quiet your life has become.

You wander around, slow and content,

Piles of knits, and doilies, and projects

All lay forgotten, surrendered, complete.

You roam and you wait for a doorbell or car horn,

To break up the silence that grows and explodes

Until you go deaf, and could no longer can stand it,

Then pray for those voices that used to disturb you

Those whining and needy, but always so sweet,

To tell you they need you, to tell you they want you,

To tell you they love you, and want you to wake.

And then out of nowhere, toy mountains erupt,

And clutter, and schedules, and noise all come back.

You hear pitter-patter of small and large feet,

You laugh, and then cry, and hug and caress,

And then, you thank heavens for no peace or rest.



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