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Poem

Often we are told
That Peace is for the cold
Not for the warm and vibrant
Nor even the tyrants
For their crime remains
That they still dwell on earth

And I sat to ponder 
Like a helpless wonderer
How dry bones 
Could enjoy so much peace without pains
With no shelter but sand 
Shielding them from the scorching sun 
And Like a leaking roof 
Gives way for rain to penetrate 
And soak them all up.

How is lying helplessly
Scattered carelessly
In the middle of nowhere 
With no flesh to cover thy shame  
No garments to hide thy nudity
Called finding Peace?

There is no peace to equal being alive, 
No peace to equal the chances of hope life gives
No peace like having an alternative 
A shoulder to cry upon
A Friend to turn to 
And a hand to hold 
While you walk through life 

Peace is better in the known 
Than the unknown
For there you’re on your own
Walking through thin air alone
In total uncertainty of where the road leads
And with no one to tell 
What you’re probably facing that they tag “Peace at last” 
While wishing that you “Rest in Peace”

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