Peace lives on
In the hearts of many, not in any of the bombed out churches, cratered schools, or in the souls of heartless presidents or mindless loyalists,
Not on Earth, not in internets, or in fishnets robbing dolphins, seals, eels, and whales along with tuna of their lives; all so we may thrive as an apex species doomed to die for all our sins against the world
Peace lives on, but it isn’t seen except in playful scenes of children, laughing in their thoughts, creating dreams; without the cares of mothers or of fathers, who cannot bear to let them worry while the world goes up in flames



It isn’t peace, but peace lives on in hope; a daughter listening in the dark, celebrating when the bomb lands elsewhere, and all she hears is the booms of thunder, the dooms of other sisters or their brothers, just not on her.

I wonder if the booms of bombs have the same rule as lightning strikes? Does the flash lighting up the sky follow thunder cracks like lightning storms? Flash, one one thousand, two one thousand, three. Are those bombs three miles away? A bomb that booms is never heard by those on whom it lands, do such lives go “bombs away!”?
They say that peace will come on Friday in Iran and maybe Lebanon
They say that oil will flow once more through the Strait
They say it’s all signed and certain, Will the children of Minab finally breath a sigh of relief?
Peace lives on, eternally as the children rest, a slumber deep because it’s death
Does peace live on in sick fathers on the edge of graves in concentration camps called detention centers, starving willfully as their wives and daughters wait hopefully in the dark with strangers for a compassion that should come and finally saves?
Will peace live on in the morning when we wake? Will it live long enough as we sleep perchance to dream of it? So we can find it once again inside our minds and still our hearts for one more time
To try and bring it to the world?
Who knows what darkness lurks within unfolding shadows
Are those shadows like a night in dark and gloom, the smoke that covers lands after bombs have boomed?
Or is it the shade of justice striding forth, the sillouettes of women finally angry marching through to still the hearts of rage and hatred, to fill the air with cries of love, celebrated into being?
Peace lives on with Hope in mind, it comes to life, leaves the pain and strife behind.
Peace lives on
As long as we do
Peace lives on.
As Hope


