He was telling me the purpose
of war was peace,
that the bombing of children
He was telling me the disruption
of food production,
of medicine, of opening the door
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.