door of peace now,
with bruises burns and cracked bones,
waiting to be healed,
Waiting to be eased.
Waiting to jump and revel in unison
with fellow countrymen,
myriad displaced and zillion refugees,
like fans often do in a football field,
Just when a goal is scored,
when the peace accord,
is genuninely signed
to break a record
by amending my country's perennial discord
I sit beside the immaculate white door of peace now,
with folded arms but with no arms.
anticipating high hopes that the door of peace will jack open soon...
soon! and soon,
there will be no foes but friends,
for foes will swiftly metamophous into friends,
transforming all our woes,
for it is only ...only that single miraculous touch of peace
that eases and heals the wounds of hate from fellow country men.
No! not the medicine of a doctor,
Nor the herbs of a traditionalist,
or the healing promise of a therapist.
But it is that single miraculous touch of peace
that eases and heals the wounds of hate
from the veins of countrymen.
So, join me now,
as I sit beside the splendid white door of peace now,
with bruises burns and cracked bones,
waiting to be eased,
waiting to be healed.
« return.