How will we survive
on a planet
broken by war?
Bits stray here and
there incarnadined
by bombs.
The Earth weeps not
only for the redness
that colours the rocks,
but also for the land
poisoned
by weapons.
The screens bawl
lists and numbers.
Peace eludes.
Nineteen-year-olds
soldier sorrows into
mothers’ wombs.
Strips of land denuded
of food, water and life,
missiled, silenced lie.
Weeping might quench
fires, but does it bring
Peace?
When will peace come
dropping by with
petals of white?
A drop of red falls
on the white.
Cherry blossoms bloom.
