Peace, unembroidered

By Hillary Fayle

Your fingers do not know soft leaves
nor supple skein of silkworm
Only the hardness of streets 
And hiss of sharp metal blade

How you have forgotten
the years when you were young
Your hands were threading words &
lighting up candles in dark alleys 

Your bed is now thin of sorrows 
As you struggle to see the serene blue sky
above the ruins of scattered bricks
Suddenly, the air is black smoke of bitterness

As you fight for your breath
Is death the final harbinger of peace?
Whose peace?
Whose death?

You have no answer
As fling yourself to save 
a stranger 
from burst of gunfire across the street-



Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Peace hosted by Bjorn Rudberg ~  I decided to write about peace from a personal viewpoint.  

Lighting 1000 candles & more

1000 Candles by William Mackrell

The father saw the body
of his dead son
and told his other sons
not to wipe away the blood
staining his son's face granite-stone
not to change his clothes
soiled by spray of bullets

And so into the streets
they carry his lifeless body 
the crowds pour as wildfire
ignited by sudden fuel-oxygen mix-
there is lust to break bones 
there is passion to avenge his name
words chanting of hate
grow out of their skin pores 
until the sea of faces
becomes tar, earth dripping of blood
field of silent red poppies-

Somewhere in small town 
a woman sits mending shirts 
In solitude, she holds on to a prayer
and then lights a candle
as she goes back to her chores -
paring vegetables, cleaning, repairing things- 
Her hand musses an orphan's hair 
then another
then another
whose faces light up 
like spring buds, dewy with gentlest of rain-


Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Abhra Pal ~  A time for light amidst the darkness around us ~

Dona Nobis Pacem

today

i will light

a  candle:

peace

i  will  be the

sycamore tree

standing    tall

for brothers &

sisters,    lost 

 &  war-weary. 

  i will  be  the  

shaded leaves,

sturdy bark  of

home to those

who need me.

my trunk   will

be   hollowed

  hearth to wings

   & feet. i'll bade 

my words soft

 as wind, strong

as  fire  during

 cold nights.For

 today,    peace

 begins with me.

 

Posted for OpenLinkNight of Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Thanks for the visit ~

You ask me, a poet, to write of peace

Saltworks by Japanese Artist:   Motoi Yamamoto

Instead 

I pour sea salt

on floor, white crystals on black 

forming lines, trails, zigzags, u-turns grief    

to healing, meticulously hour after hour, 

a canvas emerges 

Instead 

I stitch a patch  

with my sisters, aunts, girlfriends

pinning & folding each sides carefully, 

delicately threading, day after day

a quilt spreads

Instead

I prepare chicken soup

& fresh salads & bake pies

rinsing & wiping each plate & cup 

tending a warm fire, season after season

a hearth nests 

Instead

I pot the garden 

& sweep neighbor's side of fallen leaves

offering my bus seat to an old man

& smiles to tired woman behind the check-out counter

a bridge shapes  

Instead

I gather all:  words & salt grains

& hurl them back to the tides during autumn's eve  

perhaps this is how peace finally arrives:

to accept that all returns 

to sea  

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Poetics on Peace - Inspired by the artist work via Colossal

Thanks for the visit ~