For Peace
There is the peace of the moment
before the pull of the trigger,
and the peace after.
There is the blank white peace
of the silent snowfield,
motionless and cold,
the small red peace
of the rabbit not crawling
away from the fox.
There is the peace of the tree
lying shattered after the storm,
damp wood slowly rotting,
the peace before the footsteps
and the opening
of the door.
There is no peace for the winner—
the victorious wolf, licking
its red paws—
Peace belongs to us, lying
frozen in the snow, hands
still bound behind our backs—
The peace of the small hole,
the ragged-edged cut—
the peace of silence
settling upon us,
flake
by flake.
I can’t help it – I’m a contrarian by nature. I think I inherited it from my parents, perhaps especially my dad. I remember, over a decade ago, being told that it was impossible to write about someone you didn’t at least somewhat sympathize with; I went home and tried to write a poem about a stalker obsessed with a woman (which I posted here). I don’t think it’s that I disagree with people or want to be difficult or “prove them wrong” – it’s more that I want to test out people’s theories or views and see how they work for me.
So this one was written after reading quite a few poems about the value and importance of peace. Don’t get me wrong – I certainly think peace is preferable to war and violence. But I wanted to explore the idea a little more deeply because, after all, every single one of those notions is complicated. This is what resulted.
