He was telling me the purpose

of war was peace,

that the bombing of children

stopped hatred.


He was telling me the disruption

of food production,

of medicine, of opening the door

to friends,


was the condescension of peace

in its burning robe,

holding its gentle hands to all,

all of us crying

on its thorny shoulder,

so blown away peace had entered our land.




Jared Pearce: Some of Jared Pearce’s poems have recently been or will soon be shared in Pirene’s Fountain, Otoliths, Marathon, DIAGRAM, and Poetic Diversity. His first collection is due from Aubade Press in 2018. He lives in Iowa.