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Mary Smily Poem
Once in a century there comes a notable war,
To prove how uncivilized human beings are!
One steps up, reaching for the star,
The other steps down,
Leaving a never-vanishing scar.
O ruled people! Say no to war,
It has always favored the rulers so far.
“We are the saviors of the world,” they say,
Yet the shepherdless flock is left as prey.
What will justify the war?
What can replace the genocide of the little flower?
“Holy war,” they command,
What holiness do you see in the blood-soaked hand?
Left and right, they divide the world,
Yet both belong to the same word.
Having messed up this blue marble as much as we can,
Now praying for another one to mess it up again.
Copyright © Mary Smily | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Mary Smily Poem
We ride a spaceship through the sky,
The Earth, it spins as stars pass by,
At thirty kilometers each second we soar,
Yet feel no jerk, no sudden roar.
The galaxy moves, the cosmos sways,
In silent dance through endless days,
For billions of years, we spin, we glide,
In constant calm, on cosmic tide.
As children small, with eyes so wide,
We asked our mothers, “Where reside
These worlds, these stars, this sky so blue?
Where are we, Ma? Is it all true?”
They told us stories, soft and warm,
Of gods and myths, of sky and storm,
Tales shaped by faith, by land, by clan,
Passed down by voice from man to man.
But some young hearts, they could not rest,
They sought the truth, began their quest,
Unmoved by tales that changed with lands,
They searched for answers with their hands.
They’re called cold names, “atheist” too,
Yet seek they do what’s pure and true,
For if there’s creation, stars above,
There must be hands, or thought, or love.
Is it a crime to ask and seek?
To climb the hill, to cross the creek?
To find the One who made it all,
To break the boundaries, tear down the wall?
They dig the earth, they scan the skies,
They watch the atoms, the photons’ cries,
They look for truth in light’s faint glow,
In quarks below, in stars that show.
They lose their sleep, they lose their ease,
They question winds, they read the breeze,
Not for fame, nor shallow praise,
But for the truth, through endless days.
From quantum foam to cosmic sea,
They chase the truth to set minds free,
They break the big to small once more,
To learn what lies beyond the door.
And though the answer hides from sight,
They pass the torch, they hold the light,
Their search goes on from age to age,
Each note, each step, another page.
So let them search, let questions rise,
For in their quest, our spirit flies,
And in their search, we too may see,
The truth that sets our spirits free.
Copyright © Mary Smily | Year Posted 2025
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