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Peace
By James P. Friel

It dribbles off the mouth of babes,
a little too red.

In time, not their time,
it will dribble again.

Politicians patch up the wall of peace,
a tower of Babel.
The talk is the stone placed upon a stone.
When they fall
more dribbling about peace will ensue.
Yet, it must come.
All the monuments to it we have surrounding us,
some hidden from us…soldiers in hospitals for life,
others receiving metal limbs,
still others carrying with them the sound of the last battle, forever.
Peace, once lost, can never be fully reclaimed,
yet it is the dream we can never let go of…
peace.

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