Go to the Edges

The center is not where

You come to rest

Apart from it all, 

But it is what holds you while

You go to
Edges.

And go to them for

Everything you believe in,

For everything that is 

Rare and real to you.

Go to the edges 

For the gaping earth and the 

Devastated lives,

For the swallowtail butterfly,

And the dog with the sad eyes,

And the mother who 

Went thirsty for days

To flee a pointed gun

And cross a border.

Go for the one who does not know

That her laughter is fragile,

For the one who holds a flower

And not a bomb.

Peace

Is not an inherited gift,

But is made 

As we live.  

- Laura Martin