Peace

There was a point we were drifting towards;

There was a place we were seeking.

We called it: The Home of Sublime Understanding,

The Quality of Differences Subtly Restored.

“After the War,” we assured one another:

The War to Make Living Safe for the Living;

The War we have been breathing since birth—and before.

But the War never ended.

Its sand filled our mouths with reproachable sorrows.

It was mother and father, sister and brother;

Priest and rabbi, preacher and imam.

The Causes lay under a quilt of stars.

And numerous corpses clawed the hard ground.

The politicians hallowed the ground.

The various preachers hallowed the ground.

Children placed wreaths on hallowed ground.

Great monuments were built on hallowed ground.

They gleamed in the sun.

Patterned, colored cloths, called flags, flapped

Over hallowed ground.

The band played anthems over hallowed ground.

And we forgot:

There was a point we were drifting towards;

There was a place we were seeking;

We called it: The Home of Sublime Understanding,

The Quality of Differences Subtly Restored.

Gary Corseri's work has appeared at Dissident Voice, Common Dreams, CounterPunch, the New York Times, Village Voice and hundreds of other venues. His dramas have been produced on PBS-Atlanta and he has performed his work at the Carter Presidential Library and Museum. His books include novels and poetry collections. He can be reached at: gary_corseri@comcast.net. Read other articles by Gary.