Barbara Mandigo Kelly Peace Poetry Contest Winners
The Gathering by Ana Reisens Adult Category, First Place In the movie we sleep fearlessly on open planes because we cannot imagine any danger more tragic than those that have already passed. For weeks we have been arriving over the earth’s broken skin, over mountains and rivers, shaking the aching flagpoles from our shoulders. Now all the priests and imams and rabbis and shamans are gathered beside the others, teachers, brothers and kings and they’re sharing recipes and cooking sweet stories over fires. Suddenly we hear a voice calling from the sky or within – or is it a radio? – and it sings of quilts and white lilies as if wool and petals were engines. It’s a lullaby, a prayer we all understand, familiar like the scent of a lover’s skin. And as we listen we remember our grandmothers’ hands, the knitted strength of staying, how silence rises like warmth from a woven blanket. And slowly the lines begin to disappear from our skin and our memories spin until we’ve forgotten the I of our own histories and everyone is holy, everyone is laughing, weeping, singing, It’s over, come over, come in. And this is it, the story, an allegory, our movie – the ending and a beginning. The producer doesn’t want to take the risk. No one will watch it, he says, but we say, Just wait. All the while a familiar song plays on the radio and somewhere in a desert far away a soldier in a tank stops as if he’s forgotten the way.
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