A Peace

 

A Peace

 

And he came among the clamor of them.

And at the sight of his face

They rested.

 

The earth had grown both wild and weary.

A garden of many wonders too abused to weep,

A people of many gifts too misused to sing,

Now they just shouted,

Or screamed.

Born into lives of low, inexorable torment,

Or born into lives that command such delights,

Each loudly proclaiming their existence,

Until

There was no repose for any.

 

And he came among the clamor of them.

And at the sight of his face

They rested.

 

Then one did not strain

To hear the rustle of the bird in the bush,

The scrabble of the chipmunk on tree bark,

The stamp of a far-off deer warning,

For a hush had come.

A long strife ended and with it

The tumult such strife brings.

Then there was no more shouting,

Nor were the sighs of oppressed heard.

 

He had come among the clamor of them.

And at the sight of his face

They rested.

 

His name was Death –

And he brought peace.

 

The final peace.

 

And the bird rustles in the bush.

And the whale leaps in the sea,

And there are none to hear them,

But they themselves.

And that is enough.

 

Cliff Lake 9/19/2023

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023