peace begins with a single CHAIR, HAVANA

In Havana, everybody has a chair outside its door...

Ode to the Chair by Pablo Neruda

A chair in the jungle:

a sacred tree-trunk creaks

beneath the tough lianas,

the climbing vines rise up,

blood-stained beasts howl from the shadows,

big leaves fall from the green sky,

the serpent shakes his dry rattles,

a bird crosses the foliage like an arrow fired at a flag,

the branches raise their violins,

the insects perched on their flowers pray motionlessly,

our feet sink in the black seaweed of a jungle sea,

the fallen clouds of the jungle,

and all I ask

for the foreigner,

for the desperate explorer,

is a chair

from the tree of chairs,

a plush and disheveled

throne,

the velvet of a big easy chair

devoured by climbing vines.

Yes,

a chair that loves the universe

for the man who walks and walks,

a solid foundation,

the supreme dignity of rest!

Get back, you thirsty tigers,

you throngs of bloody flies,

get back, you black underbrush

of ghostly leaves,

get back, you deep waters,

you iron leaves,

you eternal snakes,

amid the thunderclaps

there is a chair, for me, for all of us,

a chair not only to relieve a fatigued body

but

for everything and everyone,

for strength lost

and contemplation found.

War is as wide as the dark jungle.

Peace begins with a single chair.