'What's peace?' asked the child from the country of strife
and asked it repeatedly
He'd only heard rifle shots, shrieking and sobs
and never the sound of the lark.
He'd only seen monsters in menacing masks
come nearer and nearer his bed.
And only felt panic and numbness each night
as he lay there, tense, in the dark.
'It's this', said his mother, who switched on the light
enfolding her child in her arms.
As he snuggled there, unafraid, phantoms fled,
and he knew security.
'What's hope?' asked the child from the country of strife
and asked it repeatedly.
'It's the bulbs that I planted to bloom in the spring'
his grandfather said to the boy.
'It's the rainbow's appearing through black threatening clouds,
God's loving arm circling the earth.
It's the acorn I planted in the soil here last year,
though it's oak I won't live to enjoy.
It's the mind that is positive, with faith, not fear
Love thoughts that there'll be a re-birth,
for they dissolve hatred and pierce prejudice
and we glimpse the heaven to be'.
