War and Widowed
Four flour breads
Pickle little
Shared with the man
Guarding fence, opposite.
War is imminent,
They know, two youngsters.
They are talking
Beautiful lines
Written in letters
From soulmates
Next night silent two
Night too.
Pyre and coffin
Handshaking,
Leaders call them martyrs
To widowed ladies it is slaughter.
To me never war is set
On Pyre or in Coffin.
Pickle little
Shared with the man
Guarding fence, opposite.
War is imminent,
They know, two youngsters.
They are talking
Beautiful lines
Written in letters
From soulmates
Next night silent two
Night too.
Pyre and coffin
Handshaking,
Leaders call them martyrs
To widowed ladies it is slaughter.
To me never war is set
On Pyre or in Coffin.
Wage Peace
ReplyDeleteWage peace with your breath.
Breathe in firemen and rubble,
breathe out whole buildings
and flocks of redwing blackbirds.
Breathe in terrorists and breathe out sleeping children
and freshly mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees.
Breathe in the fallen
and breathe out lifelong friendships intact.
Wage peace with your listening:
hearing sirens, pray loud.
Remember your tools:
flower seeds, clothes pins, clean rivers.
Make soup.
Play music, learn the word for thank you in three languages.
Learn to knit, and make a hat.
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries,
imagine grief as the outbreath of beauty
or the gesture of fish.
Swim for the other side.
Wage peace.
Never has the world seemed so fresh and precious.
Have a cup of tea and rejoice.
Act as if armistice has already arrived.
Don't wait another minute.
--Judyth Hill
Great.Thanks to Editorial Board Duane's Poetry.Thsnks to excellent reply,judythv Hill.
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