The Healers- Part II: What Was Missed

Part II of III- how we lost the fight This will be a work in progress until I get it all figured out

The Healers- Part II: What Was Missed

Celebrity consensus was, “Now is the time to care”, and so… everyone did
      Precisely two decades too late
for the action to have assured meaning.
     What was missed was not so much the intent of the thing-
but the whispers, portents- by the visionaries standing in  unsexy lab coats and charts of data-
          all pointing in the wrong direction for us to see.

Fragmentation is a slippery subject, difficult to subdue in an ether jar
    with any real sense of certitude.
so we scoffed. we laughed out loud
   set their words to our beloved parodies of righteous things.
      Who the hell cares if two sides cannot address the other? The center still holds.  Bloody morons.

There is much blaring of trumpets and beating of drums
     A bleating racket blazes through the solitude of quiet inner spaces-
A host of well-intentioned idiots march in this parade.
   We pass by all that it is we once deigned to seek-
As it retreats like a small woodland creature from our insensitive onslaught.

Backhanded oppression soon laid waste to prescient middle ground
     Oh it’s simply all in jest, lighten up, will you?
Gravity itself became just so passe-
     Refusing discomfort, the station was changed to ESPN.
Now these folks- they know to dream, and dream BIG!

While somewhere, in some quiet darkened room, an anonymous scribe held vigil
     by bedside of the latest martyr, dying
Directly observing the bleeding out by assassin’s deadly mark.
    wordlessly tallying the cost of another lost courageous soul  that once held Light.
The only one to notice the last tortured breath’s lonely surrender.

There is much blaring of trumpets and beating of drums
     A bleating racket blazes through the solitude of quiet inner spaces-
A host of well-intentioned idiots march in this parade.
   We pass by all that it is we once deigned to seek-
As it retreats like a small woodland creature from our insensitive onslaught.

For this is the curse of the Healer-
   To bear witness to every nation’s every Truth-
They demanded restoration of the light upon a landmine;s deadly edge.
     and found the places of uncanny solitude, shelter from the world’s incessant storm.
Flowers growing in the DMZ. Who knew?

They must seek reprise in the tranquility of things-
    Slight depressions of safety, places where God once spoke to those who could hear.
for in silence dwells the essence of the thing.
          But stock in spirit never did too well on Wall Street-
We delighted more in the razing of the Light.
   
There is much blaring of trumpets and beating of drums
     A bleating racket blazes through the solitude of quiet inner spaces-
A host of well-intentioned idiots march in this parade.
   We pass by all that it is we once deigned to seek-
As it retreats like a small woodland creature from our insensitive onslaught

Fragmentation had no meaning- we lost sight somehow of the wholeness of things.
     The ones who could tell us- fled, shell-shocked
to the last of the lonely spaces.
    Awaiting the dreaded sentence of “assigned value”
Sold out to relentless, encroaching, terrible, interminable Noise. We broke their spirits, every one.

We never heard it coming. There was simply too much else that held attention.
      Martyrs don’t make good entertainment
and Healers never learned reality anyway.
      We forgot to nurture the spaces between things
and focused just on the thing itself, as we crashed through the wilderness of God’s heart.

There is much blaring of trumpets and beating of drums
     A bleating racket blazes through the solitude of quiet inner spaces-
A host of well-intentioned idiots march in this parade.
   We pass by all that it is we once deigned to seek-
As it retreats like a small woodland creature from our insensitive onslaught

Reviews

[Cool Handless Luke]

Flowers growing in the DMZ. Who knew? Love that!

We forgot to nurture the spaces between things
and focused just on the thing itself, as we crashed through the wilderness of God's heart.

That's very good writing there. I am reminded of the U2 song that says "we steep so low to reach so high"

Very interested in seeing what else becomes of this series.

Awaiting the dreaded sentence of "assigned value" - I also loved this line. Sort of stark humor - like the DMZ line.

You have a talent for witty banter, sexually charged metaphors and an empaths gift to enlightenment (not all expressed in this poem but nonetheless) I am grateful to be able to read your work and correspong with you!

[JENY]

To be frank…
I couldn’t fathom your thoughts…
And the entire context…
I am sorry….
May be …
It is because I haven’t gone through previous works in the series…
Anyway I appreciate your powerful vocabulary….

[Mark]

If I read this right, you assert that technology, and the societal persuading that nothing immaterial could possibly have value, are pushing (have pushed?) the last vestiges of self-esteem, serenity, introspection and hope out of our hungry souls, in pointless pursuit of the tintinnabulous tawdriness of modern life?

[Clockwork]

Much was lost when technology and the necessity of maverick men stepped in. We realized we had a problem with those who were to be the next generation, the soothers, after it was already to late. By that time the seeds of a Fahrenheit 451 world had been planted. We are trying to mend the divide and realize that beauty lies within "negative spaces." We have too many bells and whistles sounding. Too may voices shouting. They are tuned into their parlor worlds with the sound maxed out. That leaves no space for thought, and no time to tune the soul into a vision of a fellow man or a higher power.

There is a new value upon things as you say. This value can not set a price upon the deeds of those who heal but it tries and it fails, so those deeds are thrown aside. It is only as time moves along that those who brand every inch of a man realize that they have discarded so many good souls.

[Through the Gateway]

Again...very good. A healer's lament. Enchanting, melancholy, and flows very well.

...as I said before, the world does not deserve salvation. It is up to the healers to work until it does.