when peace intrudes...

the next war
has already begun, building
from a deep reservoir of greed.
It was planted by the last war, and bowered
an "anti-flower" gone to bad seed, sown.
Were there a non-fertile place in the world:
an acquired immunity to diseases of violence?

It will be fought for the same reasons
as the last, some nation's pride offended,
some interest curtailed, some strong arm yet to be tested.

Some new things will be, awful certainties
in glassy eyes that cease to see;
where and when they might be
come stilled, depite every natural will
every reason of beauty, every call to destiny
every reach for another chance to have been
some other time, some other place
in some other magic wish to fly away.

The next war is in the air, in hearts of men
begun as a trickle  to become a pour
until ground runs red with dearest loves;  and dread
is a stare on a shadowless floor, a voice heard not more.
in air bombs bursting....I long for a time

when reason rains to make  gleams of flame
when peace intrudes upon councils of the mighty
when love dispels words of fear spilled
from self-exalted thrones, beauty rises to displace
power fed by true angers for false injury.

A day when God's memory is long and men easily forgive,
learn the painful ways of justice: to stand
in the light of all we have done, offer back
what was won by taking breath and freedom.

I long for a day, when fury sits and peace stands
when ambitions of mankind flow like a mountain stream
gathered from tiny drops to build into a roar-
a voice within the mind's own speech-

that peace holds us, shapes and molds us
into something greater than has ever been.
Into a world bent on generous life, abundant years
the worth of existence measured
by its own boundless possibilities.