He leaned across the table, took a deepening breath, and concluded-
This Jesus, he seems to have meant what he said.

How, against a backdrop of empty skyline where the air
still shimmers with missing pieces,
against a backdrop of jagged ripped apart limestone,
against a backdrop of craters where
planes were not meant to land and
once ancient caves dove dark- and deep into sunless earth,

how in a world where even words of peace
(salaam/shalom) define enemies

how does one write peace?
far easier to write to drumming beat
far easier to write of enemy hate
far easier to write of bravery under fire

"Not so," said that One who emptied himself;
"Not so," said the One.
"...little nameless unremembered acts of kindness and of love":
a hand out there; a smile here;
joining in circles, dancing in circles;
caring for infants; caring for aged;
lifting only hands that bless and heal;
hunkering down with those who cannot rise;
refusing recognition;
caring for the earth;
possessing little of importance;
thinking along eternal lines;
serendipitous eyes looking for the unexpected,
cherishing silence;
warming the cold; cooling the heated;
sipping coffee or tea, staring into the eyes of a friend:
all ears
refusing the easy answers
the logical conclusions
the simple syllogisms
the language of hate

one writes peace by living at peace
living as if Jesus meant what he said when he said
"Truthfully, I say to you…"