8/16/19: making peace from war

The thunderous echoes of weapons of war. The sirens, the shattered apartments and hospitals. The survivors, buried with the dead, under rubble. The legions of dead and injured among the combatants. The even greater casualties among the civilians.

Is it exhaustion that unclenches the fists of those in war? The incomprehensible fatigue of resources, lives, will spent? Or the utter depletion of hatred following such exhaustion?

Mars will always depart the blood-soaked fields and shattered cities once he’s drunk his fill. Eirene will return to sucor the crushed.

And then the hard work of peace begins.

gray clouds

a lone dove at rest

on a missile

How often must the phoenix

arise from ever-fresh ashes?