There’s no word more torn than ‘Peace’. Can we gather its fragments and form a living whole?
Gather it from the screams of the holocaust,
From the ghosts of Bosnia,
From the seeking arms of Darfur,
From the despairing souls of the detainees in Guantanamo Bay,
From the shell-shocked blur of Iraqis who know not if they are to mourn, fight or resign,
From the beseeching women who are trapped in their own helplessness,
From the yearning orphans who know not whom to turn towards and if they can even hope to do so,
From the shunned, rejected and the ostracized,
From the anguish of the maligned and the misjudged,
From the battle of our own pasts,
From the cozy evening with one’s beloved,
From the embrace of a secure family,
From the expanse of generous hearts,
From the souls who know their purpose in this world,
From the pride of achievements well-earned,
From the minds of the discerning,
From the hearts of the content,
From everywhere, but only to breathe in the word, to live it as a whole.
For some or even many, this might not make sense and I can’t debate that. I’m at feeble terms with the word myself. Just giving the whispers of my heart a wobbling crescendo, so that a few of us can string it into coherence.
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