“We hold our own,
Within fences and walls,
Their only fault,
They walk tall,
When we want them to crawl.”
For the past few weeks, I’ve been surrounded by news of violence, past, present and future. The Israel – Palestine conflict in Gaza is escalating with inhuman consequences, while Malaysian Airlines flight MH17 was shot down over Ukraine last week killing all the 283 passengers on board. Two days back, on July 22, it was the third anniversary of the Breivik terror attack and mass murder here in Norway. And today, I woke up to the news of warnings that Norway might be the target of a terrorist attack in the next few days. There are times I’m not sure how to make sense of all this violence. So I’m writing for peace.
This poem is for all the people who have lost loved ones to violence, who have suffered or are suffering in violent conflicts all over the world. My heart and prayers go out to you.
We hide from the dark,
So we hide from the light.
If one is too deep,
The other is too bright.
The perfect world, where is it now?
Look around you,
This one we have, it still has life.
Arms we bear,
But what do we fight?
A thin line separates,
Justice from pride.
Right is wrong,
When innocence is lost.
Whatever the cause,
Does every life matter not?
Oh, the wretched irony,
Wielding violence for peace.
All that it leaves are,
Shattered lives with hopeless dreams,
Broken bonds buried in bloody memories.
Who is to blame,
We ask again and again,
The answer is plain,
Humans kill each other,
We just give it different names.
We hold our own,
Within fences and walls,
Their only fault,
They walk tall,
When we want them to crawl.
Divided we are,
By who owns what,
The land we won is already lost,
With rotten flesh and congealed blood it’s clogged.
Blinded by fear, we spew hate,
Like a forest fire burning all in its wake,
We search the skies for the unseen noose,
We shoot down wings just because it moves.
How do we soothe,
The hearts that cry?
How do we cope with,
The senseless death of countless lives?
It’s time we face our mistakes in the past,
Make amends for the crimes of our species.
Rip the infected skin of violence,
Cleanse our souls with lasting peace,
Kindness and love,
The balms to heal our wounds,
Perhaps the scars will remain,
But let them be,
They’ll remind us of the truth we lost,
That the weapons’ cure only spreads the disease.
© Srividya K
Srividya, Writer 