Whether to break an egg
from the top or the bottom
was a complex issue for
Gulliver’s friends. They
warred with low-tech
arrows, roped in a giant
friend who showed the
world with his creator’s
pen the futility of such fights.
But now, looming in the
reddened, border-drawn
formerly unbordered skies,
war planes fly. Threats of
mushroom clouds instill fears
of absolute annihilation.
Life, land incarnadined with
wraiths of humans, birds,
animals, insects, plants —
all pine for peace. In sync
with living, humankind cries
for mercy, for the war to end,
for food, shelter, living and
most of all for acceptance.
The fakir sings a love song
for peace in times of war.
Can peace be the voice of dissent?