The Call, the Battle, the Retreat

Nestled near the Sierra's upward thrust,
Safe in our dream home,
Our four young ones were secure,
Our childhood fantasies fulfilled.

Each image on the news made a crack in our fortress:
Young ones bombed in Sunday school, fire hoses turned on innocents,
Our leader's riderless horse and fatherless children,
A little girl burned by our bombs, running naked, trying to escape her pain.
After the mule cart pulled a peaceful warrior to his resting place
And we saw Bobby dying on the kitchen floor,
Our dream ended.

When one dream ends, Life affords another to take its place
Called to action, we left without a backward glance.
Finding comrades-in-arms, we waged war on old images.
We labored for a future when all children, not just ours, would be safe and secure,
But an enemy lurked within.
Grandiosity feeds addiction; addictions defeated this dream.
We retreated to await another,
Once again near the Sierra's upward thrust.
Do you remember the 60's? This poem, with which Chapter 5 in my book begins, is an attempt to explain why my husband Fred and I pulled up stakes, moved to Brazil in 1968, then joined the staff of the Ecumenical Institute in 1970. We ran from the devastating tv images, hoping our response would make a difference in history. The addictions were both personal and in the culture of our community, as addictions always are. But that's another story. The community we found in the Ecumenical Institute, later also incorporated as the Institute of Cultural Affairs, has educated, nurtured and sustained me for 40 years in sickness and in health. What a gift. I also want to express gratitude for A.A. and AlAnon. The 12 Steps saved our family life.