Bridging A War
A poetic duet by Kristina Ray and Tangled Words
Bridging A War
by Kristina Ray and Tangled Words
Chaos: I came into this world roaring.
Every bit of calm and carefree DNA bleached from me.
Stillness: As far as I remember, I have always been here.
In the beginning, I was waiting, and then Chaos stormed in.
Chaos: It was too quiet. Unnervingly calm.
Hands clasped in prayer for movement no one dared to accept.
Humans say peace and stillness are preferred,
but those are things that death brings.
Living isn’t living if there’s only silence.
Stillness: Inhale. Exhale. One, two, three. Breathe.
If I remain still, Chaos should wane eventually.
Chaos: Wane? As though I am some pale moon in waiting?
No one shall ever silence my dark invading.
Stillness: Why do you insist on domination?
Is force your only mode of operation?
When will you learn movement isn’t always necessary?
Chaos: It isn’t domination
if it makes them free.
I am not meant for meditation.
If they look inward, they will miss the storm.
The lightning slash of paint across an unforgiving sky.
Stillness: If they are always focused outward, on the unforgiving sky,
how will they ever know the truth of who they are?
They might miss what it means to be human.
Chaos: Inward should not be a destination.
A breath, a beat of contemplation,
how to be seen, be heard.
A sermon to ones too afraid to show their truth.
Stillness: How is it freedom when there is no choice?
When peace is forbidden.
When you demand perpetual pandemonium.
Don’t you ever get tired?
Don’t you ever yearn for a respite from your constant confusion?
Chaos: It’s not a demand. Just a heavy-handed suggestion.
Whirlwinds of momentum sweep away debris and doubt.
Confusion is not my game.
Rest is for the wicked. Haven’t you heard?
I am not the enemy.
I am not a demon.
I just stand my ground
and show them the key to no boundaries.
Stillness: You say confusion is not your game,
But isn’t that your root, isn’t that your origin story?
I am not accusing you of being my enemy, and certainly not a demon.
But can’t you agree that even good things can be overwhelming when they’re incessant?
Don’t you ever want to take a break from your constant motion?
Chaos: Enemies are all I know.
If not for rage and resentment,
I would have no kin.
Peace is poison to the insane.
Calm is only moments when the dirt builds a grave.
I will not be buried just to appease those who think me a nuisance.
I will not bow to light when dark is where I find my heart.
Stillness: I am not asking you to appease me,
or give up the darkness you’re holding onto so tightly.
You don’t have to worship the light to experience peace.
Even a storm has calm at its center.
Chaos: Peace is not a prize.
Only a delusion that the world wouldn’t fling us off its surface if it could.
The storm is quieter in the middle because destruction is a gift that needs no pretense.
It gives what it promises.
Unveils the roots that didn’t want to stay planted anyway.
Stillness: Your intense protest causes me to wonder if there is not some denial at play.
Have you entertained the idea that a moment of stillness
might give you something you didn’t know you needed?
I wonder if your resistance is simply a defense mechanism.
Is it easier to embrace the constant noise so you don’t have to face what is underneath?
Chaos: The noise is a balm.
Under it whispered lies.
Doubt that made me hide for too long.
I had quiet long ago; it was forgotten.
I had stillness, and it was crushed underfoot.
So I created the whirlwind, the thunder,
the raging rapids to take what was once taken from me.
Stillness: I’m not interested in force.
I don’t desire to make you conform or to be something you’re not.
If this is what you need to protect yourself, to keep yourself safe,
then who am I to argue?
I understand upheaval is necessary.
That mayhem and disorder have a purpose,
even if it’s difficult to comprehend.
Chaos: And what of you, dear stillness?
Have you ever contemplated stepping out of that comfort zone?
I do not seek to change your ways,
but do not understand how weaving silence in moments solves the strife.
Perhaps this is not a battle to be won.
Often, as chaos, I feel power
without a path to follow.
The need to surge over the world pulses deep within.
Maybe in the end, the need is strength to hold hands with stillness as a friend.
Stillness: You are not wrong; it doesn’t necessarily solve the strife,
but instead gives a reprieve,
a chance to develop a new perspective by gaining distance from the turmoil,
but escaping the whirlwind completely may not be the best course.
I can see that facing the storm is sometimes vital for humanity’s well-being.
Chaos: So we agree.
A solid compromise of dark and light.
Chaos cradled in stillness at the peak of all that is to come.
Reflection: Bridging A War
What a stunning piece this is—a dialogue poem that allows multiple truths to exist.
What strikes me most about Kristina Ray and Tangled Words’s poem is how Chaos and Stillness begin as adversaries and arrive, without announcement, at kinship. Neither one surrenders. Neither one converts the other. The resolution isn’t a victory—it’s a recognition. And that’s far more honest than most reconciliation poems dare to be.
The poem does something philosophically courageous: it refuses to cast Chaos as the villain. Most contemplative poetry would. Instead, Chaos gets the most vulnerable lines in the whole piece—“I had quiet long ago; it was forgotten. / I had stillness, and it was crushed underfoot.” That’s the pivot. That’s where we understand this isn’t a debate about cosmic forces. It’s about what happens to a being—or a person—when peace is taken from them. When the noise becomes necessary armor.
Stillness, to its credit, never wavers into self-righteousness. It listens. It yields when yielding is the wiser move. “If this is what you need to protect yourself, to keep yourself safe, then who am I to argue?” That’s not weakness—that’s the deepest kind of strength. The strength that doesn’t need to win.
And then Chaos does something unexpected. It asks Stillness a question. It turns the lens. “Have you ever contemplated stepping out of that comfort zone?” In that moment, the entire architecture of the poem shifts — because now Chaos is doing what only the truly powerful can do: it extends curiosity instead of combat.
The final lines land like a door clicking shut after a long storm. “Chaos cradled in stillness at the peak of all that is to come.” Not chaos defeated. Not stillness triumphant. Chaos cradled. What a word to end on. The wildness held, not contained—held the way you hold something you love.
Tangled Words and Kristina Ray have written something that deserves to be read more than once. The first time for the argument. The second time for what lives underneath it.
About The Poetry Posse
A collective of poets writing in conversation. We respond to shared themes, creative constraints, and each other’s work—proving poetry is better when it’s collaborative, not solitary. Each series pushes us into new territory. Join the conversation.
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Lovely collaboration. The voices fit the personalities perfectly and push each other to contemplate beyond their own preconceived ideas and perceptions of each other.
Chaos is very confrontational which fits the character and Stillness responds with patience and a desire to understand.
And in the end, they do. They see their place in life and the universe and accept it.
Beautifully done.
Wow! I love this! The philosophical discourse between two powerful beings, both that need human fragility to survive and endure. Both that can be mutually true and exist in the same moments.