Broken Peace

With anxious apathy
and a Soothing shadow,
my Green walls stare at
Me,
Waiting with
blank ignorance,
blinking with wonder.
Oh, child you are
untouched by wisdom,
unscathed by worry,
yet tarnished with the
scratch of play and
tickled by the twilight that
peaks through my window.
These empty walls,
uncorrupted by reason,
Yearn for the grace of a
Friend.
So I steal a wooden
Piece from my desk,
Grasp it in my tough palm.
She speaks to me
in a language I long
to understand.
She whispers
“Shalom”
In the depths of
My hand.
Like a lullaby
the words possess
my ears, and
imprison my mind.

With clumsy fingers
I hurry to help her to the
Window sill throne.
Oh, nurturer of the hopeful,
Oh, burden of the not,
You bear the end of the now
And the dawn of an
Unreachable Sun.

And then,
My arrogant hand
Drops the delicate
Wooden word,
And I watch as
She breaks in two.
Foolish am I to
Believe that her
Prescence would yet shine.
Only a child,
Wishful and naïve
Could truly think that
Peace
Will Succeed.