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Is It Far To Go?
by Cecil Day Lewis
Is it far to go?
A step -- no further.
Is it hard to go?
Ask the melting snow,
The eddying feather.
What can I take there?
Not a hank, not a hair.
What shall I leave behind?
Ask the hastening wind,
The fainting star.
Shall I be gone long?
For ever and a day.
To whom there belong?
Ask the stone to say,
Ask my song.
Who will say farewell?
The beating bell.
Will anyone miss me?
That I dare not tell --
Quick, Rose, and kiss me.
(c. 1940)
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For All Children
by Andréana Elise
For all children in conflict zones
by Andréana Elise
Dear One,
I love you more than you know.
In fact, my soul flies to you each night,
sitting beside you as you sleep,
holding your hand
so you will not be afraid.
Then I fly to the grown ups
and tell them what I saw–
their nightmares
inflicted on you.
I hold up a mirror
and show them
your face.
Dear one,
I see you, running free and happy
playing football and swimming in the sea.
I see you at school, learning and growing,
clean water to drink, good food to eat.
I see you, happy and at peace,
in your own bodies, lands and minds.
It might not feel like it, but there’s a place
in this world where you belong,
a place with your name.
Each night, we meet in soul space–
long lost friends, racing to hug and kiss each other,
never leaving, never separate, ever again.
I embrace you across continents,
imagining you here, curled in soft blankets,
drinking tea and sharing stories.
Just you and me.
When threats and pain are loud on all sides,
come, sit with me,
under this shady tree.
My love is free and soft
as rain.
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I am the Moon. You are the Man on me.
by Claire Askew
Tonight, I am white and full.
My surface is all curves
and craters, but you don’t mind.
You have travelled alone through the dark,
through the vacuum of dark;
training your hands for this task,
building imaginary engines.
This is the kind of territory you were born
to navigate. You know by heart
every treacherous route
through these white dunes;
you have drawn maps of every scar,
and you sense storms.
Your compass does not work here,
but you are sexy
in your spaceman suit.
We twirl giddily, in orbit
around the days, the months.
You are wary of my high tides –
I am your escape-pod.
A familiar world spins below,
tracked by the beam of your telescope;
we shudder at passing asteroids,
send messages home by satellite.
Tonight, I am white and full.
You are the man on me,
and I am the moon.
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