Not the peace of a cease-fire

Not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb

But rather

As in the heart when the excitement is over

And you can talk about a great weariness

I know that I know how to kill

That makes me an adult

And my son plays with a toy gun that knows

How to open and close its eyes and say mama

A peace

Without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares

Without words

Without the thud of the heavy rubber stamp

Let it be light, floating, like lazy white foam

A little rest for the wounds...

Who speaks of healing?

And the howl of the orphans is passed

From one generation to the next

As in a relay race

The baton never falls

Let it come

Like wildflowers

Suddenly, because the field

Must have it wildpeace.