Peace March

The dead unruly prisoners, struggling past time
to have their screams of dread and terror realized
have shattered all the windows and scarred the doors
but never escaped the chambers of their grief.

Amongst themselves they replay the war of
their oppression, lacerating each others’
ghostly bodies in a crazed and futile attempt
to exact justice and set things right.

I have let them suffer their melodrama
far too long. With a new strength derived
from honesty and gratitude, I have opened
the door to the light in which they can rest.

In the sudden bright silence they gather
all their bags and burdens, peacefully
lining up for a stately march into peace.

After the Last Hard Night

The last hard night
broke into pieces that fell
heavily to earth, opening
the sky for light.

In the glimmering dawn
a river of dying hearts
flowed off to the south,
but left no silt of grief.

In the north,
the aching disorder
of deprivation and loss was
replaced by the rule of kindness.

Love became the king and queen,
the mother and father of all,
and the first edict of its new regime
ended all the past.

Author: D. Patrick Miller

Editor: Travis May

Photo: Jakub Klavaty/Flickr