I am revelling in the mighty privilege
of watching clouds amble, high above, in
peace.
No militiaman will leap from the reeds
beside the river where I sit at ease
to threaten me or my grandchildren
because we are of a different creed
or race, or tribe or political inclination.
I am, today, an inhabitant of a greatly
blessed nation.
Now, I think of those who dare not pause
to gaze at the clouds or the sun;
whose experience is only of terror and
strife,
of bombs and shrapnel and traumatized young,
of the hour-by-hour chance of an end to
their life.
What can I do?
I can only weep and pray that the God of
eternal peace
will raise up skilful peacemakers
and inspire a mighty desire
that under those death-laden skies
warfare will rapidly, wondrously cease.