My peace plant has Two American flags stuck in. I like to imagine One flag for peace abroad, The other – peace at home. But imaginations are A dangerous thing, Causing us to look for answers. And, much to my chagrin, Sometimes reality Is scarier than pretend.
Skin color, Gender, Size up my bank account. Weed-smoker, Ex-offender, Size up his bank account. Drifters, Loners, Size up their bank accounts. Pedophile? Peacemaker? Equals in eyes Who size up where power lies.
I’m Not Qualified to Pray for Peace
Maybe To pray for peace Is too bold and ambitious, When we know not what it means. Maybe instead, The prayers and hopes to offer Would be for the wealthy To be generous with their coffers; For the injured and diseased To find relief from their pain; Or, for drought-laden countries To get their share of rain. Maybe we should pray for safety For the world’s children, Instead of praying for peace To do a magic-trick in volatile regions. Or, we could pray for cooperation Amongst all cultures, nations and religions, Rather than generic peace treaties Which become tools of derision. And, if we pray for fewer Loaded guns, less animosity, We might begin to understand this Loaded word called peace.
©2021 Samantha Terrell
All rights reserved