WAGE PEACE FIERCELY
The consciousness of peace floats, almost unnoticed,
Over greed and industry, and their vain splashy showing
The consciousness of peace
Concerned only with strong, silent knowing.
Not worried about displays of might,
Extolling quietly the good and the right
Peaceful resistance not bombs, to fill the skies at night
The consciousness of war is proud and boastful.
Grandiose showa of dazzling strength and power,
The torture and the war crimes, the trampling of the flowers,
The consciousness of war is enamored of its might,
Parading on display on the streets of D.C., of North Korea, of the U.S.S.R.
The consciousness of war shoots missiles under cover of night.
Destroying hospitals and schools, the bastions of the innocent,
Women, children and the elderly, are felled by its armaments.
Blood soaked streets that reek with blood and the odor of smoke,
Noxious fumes that strangle and choke.
War prisoners tortured within inches of their lives
Making widows and widowers of husbands and wives.
The consciousness of war sometimes is necessary,
To defend against Fascism and all in its path
After much consideration and doing the math,
After much deliberation in situation rooms and Parliaments,
Not undertaken lightly by ambitious greedy malcontents,
Clamoring for newfound status and acquisition of land,
The consciousness of war haunts gentle forests and desert sands.
Consciousness of war too easily gains the upper hand.
Meanwhile the consciousness of peace longs for its day,
Circling quietly above the noise and the fray.
A viable choice is that of nonviolence,
Peace eschews the torrid twins of revenge and recompense.
What say you, discouraged earth, recipients of the scourge of battle,
As cannons fire, missiles fall and dreaded sabers rattle?
The blood of the wounded, maimed and dead echo in chorus,
Imploring you consider, take heed of us absolutely.
And wage peace fiercely, calmly, resolutely.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2025
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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