They said, “The peace couldn’t last for too long.”  You could hear the acrid breeze moving through the leaves.  You could see the diseased air stripping the trees.

My daughter asked, “Daddy, what does it mean?”  I answered, “Things are about to become scary.  So be wary of the character of strangers you meet.”  Roll up the welcome mat and close the doors.  We don’t need to breathe in the rotting air of angry words.

Shut the windows and close the blinds.  The men are marching by in lines in the formation of one angry fist.  Up in arms over what we’ve all since forgotten or started by a problem built too high to see over in order to discuss a resolution.  “Come away from the windows and sit over here by us!”

Justice doesn’t provoke a war, but privilege justifies it’s existence.  “We will squash them!”  The floating head shouted from the television.  The image of a gated community, Summer home, and luxury vehicle shown through the ornate watch on his wrist and fit of the shirt on his back.  Promoting something he wouldn’t participate in, nor would his progeny.

“Daddy, they look like people, like us?”

“Yes they do Brown Bear.  Because they are us.”

Take aim lil’ soldiers you ain’t ready for war.   They dragged their rifles across the horizon, while charging the hill.  “Son!”  I yelled out to bring him back.  Kissing collected crosses, stars, and other religious lucky charms that hung heavy under heads too underdeveloped to understand the ideology – nourished by their war games with sweetened haze and nothing pies.  How could they know better than adults who stood by and did nothing?   And really, what does it matter when Heaven awaits all involved.  One for the crescent, two for the cross, three for the star, and four for their loss.

Childhood interrupted, the season of endless giggles drew to a close, hopeful to return in Spring, when new life and new vines grow children carefree again.   From children to adults, organically grown, warming under the Sun and blossoming under the Moon.  A time where rumors of war are children’s stories, told only to ensure their feet are tucked in at night, the lights are off, and hugs are exchanged before, “Good night.”

—

“Old men start wars, but young men fight them”
–  Albert Einstein

by malakhai jonezs
(C) Copyright 2016