The War

This war being what it is,
a long time will likely pass —
too long, sadly —

before one side will realize 
they are facing those
who will kill and are ready
to do so;

under the misconception
that love is enough,
that what this war demands
is a tsunami of love 
to overwhelm hatred;

even as the ridge
above them fills
with snipers and artillery,
no one among them has the power
to raise that wave
and wash the hills clean

so they vote, they talk, they cry,
they laugh at the war; they mock,
they gossip, they pray — and down they fall.

On the other side of the ridge,
ignored by the killers,
some people are building
a new world within a fortress,

and of course
they have gun slots in the walls,

high above the gardens,
the nurseries, and the homes
they’ve prepared for peace
without assuming it as a given.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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