BROTHER
by Hugh Mann
I’m not well
If you are sick
I’m not rich
If you are poor
I can’t live
If you’re not free
I depend on you
And you can depend on me
A brother is no bother
We all have the same Father
(“Brother” was originally published in organicMD, Envisioning Peace, and Poets Against War in Canada, and is reprinted here today with permission from the poet.)
Hugh Mann, MD is a holistic physician-poet whose website, organicMD.org, promotes peace and health by publishing Peace Poetry. His work has been published in various poetry anthologies, websites, and medical journals, including MIT’s Envisioning Peace, British Medical Journal, Canadian Medical Association Journal, Annals of Internal Medicine, Jerusalem Post, and Poets Against War in Canada.
Editor’s Note: In keeping with our recent discussion on this series about peace poetry, today’s poem is by a poet who has dedicated his life to bringing about peace through poetry. Short, sweet, and to the point, today’s poem highlights how simple peace ought to be.
Want to read more by and about Hugh Mann?
Hugh Mann’s Official Website
Envisioning Peace
As It Ought To Be 
simple. sweet and sacred … like the olive branched dove. may it be so.
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Beautiful post Sivan. We’re all connected by the divine spark but it’s easy to forget sometimes..thanks for the reminder.
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Mothers’ Night
cascading shards
uneasy
echoes falling
“It’s our calling.”
Rape of Earth,
hot spurts of words
savage knives
Abiding Mothers,
sacred and mundane
twist into harridan
cold stars
wail, hurtling waves
Sad, old, crust of ages
sliced, screwed, carved up for profit
“It’s not the color of the skin,
the culture of the smile”
the scent of danger,
the inborn stranger —
all excuses for Us (superior)
and Them (inferior)
“They are not like we;
but lower curs.”
we may harm with unfettered glee
Cursed to be cut to our requirement.
Borders clear
“Here, fear fences in
our livelihood and wives.”
Leave THEM to putrid pits
cunning jabs,
our pleasure.
Thus, all treasure that might regale,
heal, reveal true worth,
of man and Earth
sold for pittance of potash
to dance a weary jig
May 10, 2010
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)mad magicks( Emerging Visions visionary art ‘zine #20 will be emerging late this weekend (after the Rapture) http://emergingvisions.blogspot.com
Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine
Jesus cried, and somebody grinned — don’t whine
Jesus smiled his love on the least,
scattered his manna that the lowly might feast
All you remember is that slavering Beast
so remind me why you find less than fine
daring to share a peace of mind
about kindness more
than Divine
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Caging the Beast
“call me after the Rapture” I
post on religious social network
sites.
Have you read Yeats’ “Second Coming”?
After the prophecy
After the hard, hard rain
after the rainbow
Call me. We should get together.
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