i know that no day in history saw
more bullets exchanged than kisses,
and that the love letters written
outnumber those reported ‘missing’.
this is something i need to believe:
arteries pump more life than artillery drains,
and while young people die for fields
that will be ash soon (if not already),
women in white blouses tend flower-boxes
and hug their children tightly, humming lullabies.
if the world ends tomorrow, today
must be full of laundry and laughter
and loves too big to bury.