Peace Poem – by Finn Bille

Well, neighbor, this land lies barren
where we’ve paced back and forth,
and weed-choked everywhere else.

I’m proud that we’ve negotiated,
and that we haven’t fought,
that no blood has been shed
on our disputed boundary line.

Our talk does seem like peace
when war is everywhere,
and though this talk is easy,
I’m tired of talking about peace.

Let’s stop talking about peace.
That word is so heavy with morals,
so light with abstractions.
Let’s stop talking about peace.

Come, let’s get my mattock and your shovel,
and let’s sow marigolds and onions
in trenches we dig together
across the boundaries of our past.

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