New Poetry


Our little one heard our talk of the world.

She looked up from that small house on the rug,
took us in with her eyes, and asked,
in an almost whisper, I remember,
without a question mark’s loft on the end,
what is peace.

                       I wanted to tell her
peace is here in the light-soaked air,
and swirls in my chest right now and whenever
I look at her. I wanted
to say peace lifts the white wings of gulls
and possibly angels above us, that peace
is borne in the eyes of those who love us,
that maybe it’s everywhere
at once.

                       But what
I thought was: Peace is a ghost
I saw in the fog hanging over the pond
that morning I walked the lakeshore flats,
where red-winged blackbirds patrolled like uniformed
guards, protecting a hazy fiefdom
of dreams.

                      Our child waited
as we wondered what to say,
stumbling in a thicket of troubled thoughts.
In a while, a few words tumbled out.
Then, looking away, she returned
to the world of that little house, to play.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .




Jed A. Myers is a Seattle poet and musician whose writing has been published in various journals, posted on web sites, heard on radio, and performed, mostly by Jed, in an array of settings in the Pacific Northwest. He’s won several regional awards, and hosts a regular poetry gathering in his part of town. His loose network of collaborators, ArtsforHearts, puts on benefits in local spaces for a wide range of real life causes.


Girl Magic Lantern by Jane Sherry.