I see children giggled like
how little birds chirp.
How I wish roses would burst
from the barrels of guns aimed
at every minute.
I saw the news today, the Reverence
talked of peace between the militia
and the peacemakers of the territories.

We treat a person as if he was
a Stranger in a Stranger’s Land.
I stare at them and reflect that
they are the blood of my blood.
Whom our forefathers shared
a meal with and shed blood.
The gods would abide if we talk
peace when we have the chance to harm
our brothers and sisters.

May this be our good will.
I remember the words.
I saw the killings of innocent sheep
in the time of crisis and changes.
The soul yearns for the outer voice.
Remember me, I say, when time changes…