Kindness II
After Naomi Shihab Nye’s “Kindness”
By Thomas Palaima
When our evening suns leave gray
reminders we have been and gone,
we live in what we give away,
attention, caring, kindness.
Kindness keeps secure and close
much-loved and loyal companions,
making now fewer new friends
in these days of miracles
and wonders and fearsome news
fake and real, like God made man.
Steady streams of media,
antisocial vulgar
and designed
to make us
lose our minds,
ark flood our kindnesses
leaving nothing left to find.
The second great commandment
stands in Ozymandian ruins,
hopeless and forlorn.
We long since are become
algorithmic prisoners
handcuffed to handheld screens,
watching all the latest gossip,
hearing all the latest rhyme.
We drag our tired brains about,
put our better angels to sleep,
leave little room in our souls
for the saving grace of kindness.
Kindness waits and waits and waits.
Kindness is kind to us when
we forget to bring kindness along
in the lives we live mostly now
in bits, pieces, small moments
that will never make history
even from below.
Kindness,
like a bird on the horizon,
sings a clear and joyful
promise song
at his own expense:
“I am here and will be, too,
the next time and the next.”
“I have no date to expire.
I’m not like Pretty Peggy.
I’ll hear you call
through all that
shmatta shmatta shmatta.
I’ll bless and keep you always.
You’ll have no need of wishes.”
Your own kind acts will be
the residue of you.
