The Thought That Lingers: Part Eleven

The thought that lingers in our times
Is that of war; in times of peace
Wars of every culture
Wars of tribes, wars of nations
Wars too of religion.

Then there are wars of gender, wars of hatred
And there are always wars of passion
There are always wars against liberty
There are wars and rumors of war
There are wars of the human heart.

These wars deny us freedom
These wars plague our souls
These wars bring us death in their wake
These wars invoke greed and selfishness
These wars diminish us.

These wars create a strident theme of theft
A theft of everything that makes us human
These wars limit our choices
Negate our moral fortitude
These wars create our own purgatory.

And yet a child of war can lead the way
A wounded war torn child…
Can turn men’s hearts from warfare
Can offer us another, even better choice
Can show us how, by loving, we can care.

Let us now turn to look upon such child
A war torn child; rising from the ashes to compose —
To compose her self to write…
With bombs bursting in the air, she writes
Bleeding the pages of her diary with love.

Lodged as she is, so hidden in her ‘Secret Annex’
Her hiding place becoming her Pandora’s Box
A place not of comfort, but a catacomb
A place to garner strength
To petition insight even in greatest darkness.

This is our heroine of the holocaust
This is our maiden of the Secret Annex
Ensconced, enclosed; enveloped by the scourge of war.
This is the story of Anne Frank
Whose diary will be an account of courage amidst warfare’s atrocities.

And so a diary of warfare in sooth
Becomes indeed a diary of peace and love
A diary of finding light
Even in the greatest darkness
A handmaiden’s diary to transform men’s hearts.

“O Dearest Anne Frank
While encased in ‘Dora’s Box
Favored by Mercurial spirits to write
Your words of passion burn evermore in our hearts
Invigorate our souls with newfound hope.

“O Dearest Anne Frank
Promethean Hope you provide us
Olympian dreams you raise up
To emblazon us with love
To keep Hope still alive.

“O Child of Hope, O Child of Love
O precious war torn child
O all ye children of the world
You are our legacies of hope
You are the prize we have; and must keep.

“O Ancient Ones
Let our children’s dreams not be deterred
Let their innocence prevail
Let their wisdom serve as guide
To stir men’s hearts anew to love.

“When Hope is but a shadow pale
When Hope is placed without much light
Beseech a child to show The Way
O Ancient Ones, beseech us all to listen
To seek the light, not darkness.”

At Pringsengnacht; Two Sixty Three in
Amsterdam
There — dwells the Secret Annex
It is a shrine to honor peace; the scourge of war forget
That light will always shine to overcome darkness.

For images of war are thoughts
Are thoughts of ugliness
These thoughts of bitterness become transformed
By healing teardrops of a child
Who weeps with joy of hope.

Let’s honor Anne Frank’s words of hope
And those of other children like her
Who see the world as what it really ought to be
Instead of how we often fashion it
Let there dwell within our hearts a Secret Annex of Love.

That is the potent thought we seek to linger
That is the thought we wish to bear fruit
That is the childlike thought we cherish
For of such thought is the Kingdom of Heaven
And of such thoughts children will lead The Way.