The Desert Named 'Peace'

by Paula M. Patton-Ross

When in search of an understanding of War
Moreover, its purpose in a modern society.
I find myself hurrying to the Past
reliving its sobriety
to overcome or subdue for whatever reasons
aside all the nameless faces, the deepest pain of crying
their losses, so out of season.

Tacitus said:  “War makes a desert and calls it Peace”
Where is the paradise the seeker should revel in?
Flowers are deposed and grass is unseated.
All to ‘throw’ a body in.

What wonder?
The sun does?
No shine through branch and limb
its rays fenced by sulfur and haze
For politics cries the victim
immorality overrides wisdom
with Past ever present
among history’s hesitance
as rivers run through bloody days.

For an ounce of fascination
we are at odds,
Nation against Nation
To what end?
Then whisper Brother
as we must rebuild our lives again
if we Win
What affects the defeated
affects us all over.

I stand on sandy mountain gazing
toward the horizon as it slips below the mount
As tomorrow, it will rise again
This thing called War 
Man must always find himself in
I kneel to sit..
and begin the count.

The Desert Named 'Peace' by Paula M. Patton-Ross

© Copyright 2003. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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