Conflict Listening

We need to listen
It’s a need that is solely lacking
A lack of it breaks our home and ruins corporation
And separates a church from the parishioners.
Away to your tent and cast your lot
I wish we could zip it and sip it just for a second

A lack of it is a bane of government
Elected leaders vow to listen
To Capital hill they flock
They become tone- deaf around the block

The clock ticks, the kick comes and goes
We hope for the click
But it’s really nothing but a flick
We really are born to listen
To be calm and absorb all the sense
And make sense of all the noise
It’s not a game of cat and mouse
All because we do not listen

Samuel did it in the middle of the night
We can start when it’s nice and bright
When we do, we can fly as a kite
The bite is gone, my sight is clear.

It helps to build bridges
It mends broken relationships and lives
It alleviates the need for armed conflict
Listening crafts a new era of a rainbow fortification
Of divergent views and opinions
Collectively making us stronger as a Unit.

We climb walls and pull down strongholds
We tear the veil of confusion that envelopes
Creating fear and torment that cripples
It becomes a never-ending torrent of monosyllables
Which taken together, never sums up to a dialogue

I stand on the mountaintop of conscience
I run to the streams of eloquence
I borrow from the buckets of wisdom
I sip into the bowels of history
The unending cracks of opportunity

Listening is a sweet wall
The tall and adaptable grass
It waves and moves and bends as the wind blows
it bows, but rarely breaks at the gust of the Hurricane

The complete rhapsody of reason
The unending chasm of essence
It escapes the truism of reality
It’s blind to the call made on main street
All it seems to suggest is ‘this is my street’
A one way street.

To truly listen, you stop
Your eyes are fixed and steady
You assimilate and analyze
Not breaking in or interrupting
The streams slowly following its path
To the fields of fresh flowers ever blossoming
At the supply of the fresh waters of the valley of the monks.
Listen.
Learn to listen.

Muyiwa Babalola copyright (C) 2010