Kevin Bergin Poet Free verse

The Quiet Between Wars

The Quiet Between Wars

There’s a silence the news never catches 
that loud hush between sirens,
as a mother counts her children
then finding one name missing,
but saying nothing.

Peace isn’t a dove, my friend
It’s a man returning the bread he stole.
the child translating anger and mercy,
A border guard lowering his gun,
because something human flickered inside.

We are all made of bruises and forgiveness.
The body remembers the chains.
as the heart keeps inventing doors.
testing barriers, calling names in silent voices
everyone's here waiting again.


Freedom’s never just a flag.
It’s your neighbours knocking.
asking if you’ve eaten today,
then staying for tea
because you became a prisoner in life

Equality is never in the fine print of treaties.
It’s that moment when the powerful
actually become the powerless
beginning to see themselves
in each other’s faces.

If there are any true gods of peace,
then they live in the quiet between wars,
mending our stubborn hearts
with the smallest threads of hope.
Knowing misplaced trust is foolish

Still, the world forgets to breathe.
Sprinting from outrage to remembering 
somewhere a nurse hums in a corridor
while holding a stranger’s hand
As the moment is again forgotten

Through the darkest of hours.
Justice walks slowly.
held heavy with mud.
She’s always late 
But she keeps coming.

Empathy’s not from sermons.
It grows in queues, in shelters,
in the awkwardness of kindness
people with nothing left to give
Except the silent 

Some wounds stay quiet,
buried under polite talk.
And when the world’s done shouting 
maybe then we’ll remember
the smallest prayer of all:

It's not victory.
not vengeance.
not a moment 
not even love
It's hope.

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