John Stafford was a poet, a Quaker, a pacifist and much more. Every War Has Two Losers, edited by his son Kim Stafford, brings together previously unpublished poems, journal entries and prose pieces that speak to me across the decades. “Poetry” does the job a good poem always does of helping me see the world differently, and in this case, respond differently.
Please enjoy this poem, and see if at the end you can eat that bread.
Poetry by John Stafford
Its door opens near. It’s a shrine
by the road, it’s a flower in the parking lot
of The Pentagon, it says, “Look around,
listen. Feel the air.” It interrupts
international telephone lines with a tune.
When traffic lines jam, it gets out
and dances on the bridge. If great people
get distracted by fame they forget
this essential kind of breathing
and they die inside their gold shell.
When caravans cross deserts
it is the secret treasure hidden under the jewels.
Sometimes commanders take us over, and they
try to impose their whole universe,
how to succeed by daily calculation:
I can’t eat that bread.
Another of Stafford’s peace poems can be read here.