Peace

 The beautiful lady

 I saw her once, dressed in a white wedding gown,

 Bouquet of white mums in her hand,

 Veil very shear still hiding her face.

 She came to me walking ever deliberately

 I could see the faint shimmer of tears through her veil

 In happiness her tears welled up and her lower lids could not contain them.

 They over flowed and brought with them the well of her soul.

 The Bridegroom stood very proudly

 Examining the flow of her dress as she approached.

 She was grace to behold.

 The interlopers were not invited,

Marked with the scent of death they came.

The Bride was taken, the groom assaulted.

The wedding party obliterated.

Still echoing in my ears the weapons of mass destruction.

Still beckoning me her cry of despair.

In sadness she shall come again.

In hope do I long for her.

Although all tattered, bruised and raped, do I search for her

Calling her name with anticipation,

Praying I shall see her again.

Her name is Peace!

Ó Robert W. Hullender