Peaceniks, Freakniks, Hippie Lovers

To live a life of peace...to try. To not submit to the war machine in all its many guises. To not have taken the easy road but the lesser. This is easy to forget when troubles are upon me. But then there comes a morning like this one and I go and lay in the green grass, look up at the beloved trees and think ah yes, I remember. I remember making certain choices early. I remember standing in huge crowds shouting hell no we won't go. And I laugh because it felt so good to say no no no to killing no no no to the prospect of being killed. To say yes to the rain, the mud, the wonder and beauty of the world. To say yes to the beautiful boy who stood with me shouting hell no we won't go. And we didn't. We went to another place. We ate those purple berries. And we took off our clothes and danced in the water.

Like trees we grow, nothing is lost. And I will be also forever twenty years old, singing songs of peace. Shouting no no we won't go. Some things are lost, more are gained. The rope holds. It did not break. Frayed at times. Seemingly invisible some days, months, years even. Laughable in the court house or houses of the rich, I have often turned my back on what I know. It's sadly true. All the same peace continued to hold. And holds me, it seems, even when I cannot hold it.