As I clean up from our dinner
here in a small village in France
Walter tells me
There are eight people
watching North Cape, Norway’s webcam
at this moment.
And he is one.
I go to see what it’s like
In the northernmost fishing village in the world
Where the dark nights of September have come
and the streetlights on the edge of the harbor
Make undulating rivers of gold in the water.
I am captivated
And It is as quiet as an ancient fishing village would be
After the sun goes down.
There are no lights on in the houses
Everyone in them has gone to sleep.
But a big white van pulls out and drives down the road
out of the picture
Its lights for a moment
Reflected in a window.
And then again
Quiet.
I want to see the faces of the
other people
watching this peace with me.
First seven and
then four more who have joined us.
I want to see their eyes, watching calmly
while I feel our heartbeats slowing
and hear our breath going in and out
In bodies that all have lungs
And brains, and hearts to beat.
We would not talk,
Even if we could
We would just nod to each other
In kind recognition
Of what it is that drew us here
And captured us.
The love that peace brings
would be carried by the waves of light
Weightless
Like the golden rivers on the water
of a dark harbor.
