The Arrow And The Olive Branch Poem by Patrick Czyz

From Ocean's Blue to bombs blasting red,
The enemy bombed 'till we dropped dead.
Ships sunk to rest at the shore floor;
The planes kept at it more and more
Until...flames took their fighting place
And did damage to the leaking fuel...
Fire! Fire! O the flames were more cruel
Than speeding bullets zipping at all alike.
Smoke filled the war trapped lungs, like
Poison vaporizing and shredding delicate tissue.
Flames of the Inferno burned away flesh...
And with it, Hopes of living the calm, fresh
Peaceful Life.

Now we see the war tainted Flame
And the battle scented smoke preserving the same
Ritual Cain once started. The Ritual
That is so common, it has been made usual.
Its tools are the Agile Arrows...
Finding their way, as they always do,
Even if the path they take is narrow:
Piercing the faint-footed Walk of Peace.
But crude and primitive mechanisms never last,
For if they do, the Olive Branch
Would not have grown... but it did!
And from its growth, become unhidden…so pure
The Hopes for a calm and fear- free Future.