Mythologically speaking,

we’ve been here before -

The Fools, the Kings,

The exiled Innocents,

and endless wars about

imaginary things.

Countless before us

have marched, protested,

wrung their hands,

and hung

their exhausted dreams

on that rusty old nail named Hope.

These days, I try to notice

what is actually within my reach.

Can I help this child who’d

like her apple sliced?

Can I walk this elderly man

across the road -

and maybe a little further?

Sit side by side on a bench and

listen to the birds?

I suggest we have coffees and

laugh when he says,

“Oooooh yes please!

Six sugars, please!”

Of course, I can.

I rush to the cafe -

order, wait, collect -

glance back anxiously at the bench

to make sure my new Old Friend is okay.

I see him:

weathered face tilted

to the winter sun,

eyes closed.

His shaky hands holding one another,

as if to say,

I am here. I got me.

I walk back carefully, balancing

two coffees (six sugars),

aware that I don’t know his story yet

and may never hear it -

but for this tiny moment in all existence,

I suddenly know:

this -

here -

is us -

waging PEACE on the world:

on a bench,

in the sun,

side by side -

a white-haired woman

and an elderly man,

simply because

we can.

©Liat Lev June 2025

photo credit: Hossein Ashtiani