A Brew Called Peace

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“Peace is often not genuine calm or harmony. It is a kind of numbness or illusion created after violence, pain, and sacrifice.”

*********************

What we call “peace” is not pure -

it is something fermented from suffering.

Sacred words are placed in vessels,

mixed with human blood, burned, buried, dissolved,

turned into something else 

and when we consume it, the numbness we feel

is what we name as peace.

>>>

The world can cut and bleed, and peace from bitter seeds grows,

In quiet after dreams, from shadows and from screams it flows.

***

A sorrow steeped so slow in wounds we hide and vows we keep,

Words once so pure and bright now stained in endless nights run deep.

***

Sacred words rest in vessels, truths we cannot deny still,

Mixed with what life has torn, with weary hearts it bends our will.

***

Burned and broken away, then buried deep in hidden ground,

Lost within time itself, where silent pain will not be found.

***

At last it turns anew, from all the trials we journeyed through,

We drink the heavy brew, a strange and muted, quiet hue.

***

The pain will fade away or sink in depths we cannot trace,

And in that numb stillness, we dare to give it name of peace.

***

A fleeting shade it seems, a fragile mask of hidden lies,

Not born of light or truth, but shaped by loss that never dies.

***

Yet in the darkest night, a whisper rises soft and clear,

A truth untouched by pain, a fragile hope that lingers near.

***

For peace is not the end of silence when all voices cease,

It must be born anew from healing hearts to become peace.

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