What is peace?

What is peace?
Peace is the course elegance of a river, being cradled by rocks,
the prism of colours beaming after a storm,
it’s the slumber endured through the ticks of clocks,
all chiming in unison, as placid dreams perform.

What is peace?
Peace is empathy wrapped up in a poppy.
Peace is a white flag held in red hands,
or is it a replaced son; a fraud; a copy?
It’s pretentious joy brought along by the bands.

What is peace?
Peace is in brown eyes gleaming with sunlight,
Dripping in honey and bliss.
Peace in those crevises of gold that shimmer all bright,
The ones that smile from a soul in remiss.
Remiss of the things that rob us of peace-
that peace “shining” so keen in their eyes,
It’s the peace that will leave, as they grow it will cease.
Once they start seeing, peace will say its goodbyes.

What is peace?
Peace is a medal, all shiny and new,
it congratulates men on their slaughter.
Or is it a mother, all sad and all blue,
Holding hands with her weaping daughter?

What is peace if it isn’t dressed up?
If it isn’t a father drinking his sorrows?
Drowning trauma with beer, chugging his cup,
Clinking “cheers!” for false cheery tomorrows?

What is peace if not in white gloves,
shaking hands with a once hated country?
What is peace if not symbolic doves,
taking flight towards money of sultry.

Peaceful hands shook are not forever,
when ravenous king’ egos are as fragile as a feather.

What is peace if not stable?
What is peace if not a consequence of unceasing warfare?
What is peace if it can’t enable…
supposed ‘leaders’ to maybe just care?
What is peace?
Is it that certainty that tomorrow will rise?
Or is it the sorrow that for our country, he dies?
Or is it the fact that no one is sure,
Whether deep down peace is all-that secure?

What are you looking for?