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Cry death and doom and let the maidens wail
When men of power turn a deafened ear
As howling dogs imperil all the land
And still they never see the danger near
Cry woe and mourn for peace that shall not be
Make haste to bring the virgins to the dust
For men forsake the truth and practice war
And all around they feed upon their lust
Cry misery and pain, the time is done
For peace has had her time, or so they say
The prophets in their robes of black do mourn
And still we pray and hope for peace come morn
Sing joy, for from the earth a seedling springs
We bow our hearts and listen for the sound
Can it be so that from so small a thing
That peace could grow and blossom all around?
Hosanna! Raise the cry throughout the land
Yes, sing the praise of peace and death of war
For men shall live once more in harmony
And hate and darkness dwell on earth no more
©2003, Terry E. Wilbur
Terry E. Wilbur is a poet living in Dallas, Texas, married with three grown children and a cat named Caesar.
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