Old Poems I

I've just recently stumbled upon an old journal. Stuffed within the binding is a collection of poems that I've written throughout the years. For lack of anything else to post these past few days, I've decided to occasionally post one of these poems. So here goes:
Old poems ~ First installment.

Baghdad,
Birmingham,
Sudan

It's all our own backyard,
no matter how far sighted you are

Revolution of change
always awaiting it's revolutionaries

War paint streaked across my conscience
like the spear thrown to stake it's prey

This small woman practicing pacifism
with still,
an ounce of angry strapped to her shoulder

When we victimize ourselves
with the thoughtlessness of convenience
we forget that half the world is screaming with war

When we stop noticing the gentleness of good practice
our own wars kick up inside our guts
and demand our attention

Notice more and transformation happens.