It’s autumn, and there is rumor of a white flag.
The I Want My Way War has become a Stale-mate.
The heat of battle has cooled.
Control of the heart-field is relinquished.
Weapons of wordless action are still.
There is a pause.
It’s autumn, and there is rumor of a white flag.
The I Want My Way War has become a Quiet-contract.
The Mediator has come.
By invitation, He moves between the two.
There is freedom in the field.
And weapon-wounds are washed.
It’s autumn, and there is rumor of a white flag.
The I Want My Way War has become a Peace-pause.
Poem: Lisa Barnes
Photo: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:White_Flag.jpg
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