The violence of monks...

and a communion of motherhood

“meditative spaces” PC: Reena Kapoor (c)2023. Instagram @1stardusty

The violence of monks 

They shut down the beach,

the “authorities” that is 

A thin green plastic fence arose, 

one that would’ve stopped no one 

in the rowdy towns where I grew up

but here and now it’s different.

*

Five official personnel of various stature

arrived to lecture the public: “Clear off or

there’ll be consequences, misdemeanors cited,

even jail time considered for trespassing, or

harassment…” of the Hawaiian monk seal and 

her pup, who’ve recently situated on this sand.

*

The dark pup awake, plays, prods his mama

who lays with a pilgrim’s exhaustion.

Monk, for the skin folds like a habit’s 

cowled hood around her neck, they say.

Monk, for how she meditates on the

water in deceptive calm, I think.

*

But don’t get too close. No monk she is.

Perched on the edge of violence,

she’ll attack in a moment, for even 

a perception of threat from swimmers 

or biped fools who approach on land,

mistaking her quiet for passivity.

*

I remember the shock that landed 

with motherhood - a realization of 

how readily we’d kill for our children —

the very people we live and die for.

A violence we permit, often absolve

of monsters, pacifists, even monks.

*

With a nod to our communion, her 

instinct, I leave looking for safer sands 

to “recreate” elsewhere, as the authorities demand,

for today she’s all seal, all mother — no monk!

…

Is this why the hectorers for war so often 

exhort us in the name of our children?

—Reena | May 2023

These notions and lines came to me when I read this article a few days ago, sitting rather far away from any Hawaiian beach but, feeling in perfect communion with mommy-Hawaiian Monk Seal.

Tell me what you think!