by Cindy Ecay
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
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My Cry For Peace at the 11th Hour
Praying, hoping, reaching inward.
A spark of peace growing,
Somewhere inside my very core.
Always existing, awaiting my call.
Now needed, now called upon to do a good work.
Pure peace - nurtured, tended and revised, becoming something palatable enough for the world to grasp -
Its edges tattered and graying.
Twisted, reshaped -
Becoming no longer its true essence, And as such, not worth speaking;
Untrue to myself and dishonoring truth itself.
I've had enough.
I'm ready now.
I bear my own arms;
The olive branch, the dove.
Ready to speak, ready to act.
There is no watered-down truth, no time for minced words.
As our soldiers are called to fight, I too am called.
A soldier for peace - It is a part of me.
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|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|Powerfully meaningful, Cindy. Thank you for sharing this poetic offering of peace. Love and peace to you. Regis|
|Reviewed by Paul Berube
|Cindy, very well written.|
|Reviewed by Andre Bendavi ben-YEHU
|"The Soldier" that is the soldier that I respect.
Praised be the Author.
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
|Reviewed by Lady Peg (Reader)
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
I hope you get your wish.