CEASE FIRE
We are not always happy at the news.
Though one might think we would rejoice.
There is always that uptick in dying
before the eerie silence settles in
like dust filtered on late day’s twilight.
Peace tiptoes on death’s long shadows.
Of course the ones who agree are never
those who gather up body parts like leaves.
These are the questions no one asked us:
Are we tired of our eardrums breaking apart?
How long must our children sit dazed and
bleeding, for photographic portraiture?
How will we turn growing piles of bricks and
rubble back to something called a neighborhood?
Did we cry as we left our once green gardens
in search of rubber rafts on open seas?
If there are good answers to these questions,
perhaps peacekeepers are jotting them down
in their computers or cease fire notebooks.
Here is my question for them: Will one of you
be here to walk out with me to the marketplace
just before it starts? In that often forgotten
moment when we place our lives at risk
for a taste of cardamom-spiced coffee.
"CEASE FIRE" WAS AWARDED FIRST PRIZE
IN THE 2017 RAYNES POETRY COMPETITION