weave new boats from white dove wings
to sail down rivers of red,
olive branches for your oars,
downstream float the dead;

paper cranes wilt on the banks,
hope drowns in innocent blood;
whirlpools form where children fell,
peace cries in the mud.

Reading about children in conflict zones… why don’t we care enough?
Dodoitsu (7-7-7-5) pair linked to Poets United for their midweek prompt “river” Β and to Toads Tuesday platform.

55 thoughts on “White

  1. It’s kinda disturbing- this poem. I suppose that was the intended effect of this line: “…peace cries in the mud.” Wanting to be heard.

    Wonderful poem.


  2. I could think of the pain and misery and suffering of the migrants from Syria, and that photograph of the kid, which became popular all over the world, comes to mind as well.
    “peace cries in the mud” indeed. A haunting write in many ways. Well-penned.


  3. Ah,the concluding lines almost brought a lump to my throat. Peace, where is Peace? .Hope someone lifts them up from the slimy pit….May Peace Prevail on Earth.
    Disturbing piece, but very beautifully penned…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. this was sorrowful. i could see their dead bodies and their blood in the river by your poem here. very true and very tearful. reminds me that not all can look at a river with cheerful and uplifting souls. thanks for that.


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