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Why Ever War? A Poem by Larry Gibbs

Why ever war? That's a question Larry Gibbs has been asking himself ever since he saw this military cemetery in Sainte Avold, France, when he was eleven years old. Larry shares, "This is one of our family photos of Sainte Avold Cemetery in France. I was not quite 12 years old when we visited it in 1961.... I was so struck by the image, and the immense tragedy that it represented, that I wrote the first verse of my poem then.

Stand and Fight – for Human Life

How can those charged to serve and protect
kill an unarmed man with a knee to the neck?
Why do brown people fear the men in blue 
when there is no difference between me and you?

It’s not right
We see the light
We’ll stand and fight
For human rights

Why do people living off their last piece of earth
get sold out and silenced as if they’re of no worth?
Who gave away the land of their forefathers?
I won’t profit off of it any longer

It’s not right
We see the light
We’ll stand and fight
For human rights

A Hero of Peace Flew Away (Jean Vanier)

A hero of peace flew away –

one who saw treasure beneath imperfection

to reveal God’s reincarnation in each conception.

 

A hero of peace flew away, but not quickly.

Not before planting two blossoms on The Farm, which multiplied into a bouquet of thousands. They’ve perfumed France, indeed the world, for over fifty years.

Their scent intensifies still.

 

A hero of peace flew away.

Holy Communion

My God, let me eat you

Let me drink you in

You’re in the air

You’re in the wind

You’re in the sun

You’re in the trees

Holy communion is all around me

 

Praying in the beauty of Prince Edward County, Ontario.

Deep Peace

Today I am gifted with deep peace. It’s centered deep, low in my body, in my womb. It’s birthing strength to face new challenges and forget past fears. It stills my mind; my body is tranquil. May I carry this peace all day and into tomorrow.

Ode to the Black Prince

“You know that woman who came by herself?” said the vinegar craftsman to the server.

“You mean me?” I asked, revealing my presence, losing the chance to hear the next sentence.

Would it be that I was still there, hours later, sated with vinegar, recipes and stories?

Was it the story I told the young woman who made my pizza, of my travels seeking stories that bring peace? Her great aunt couldn’t marry a Catholic, not because of faith, but because of politics. Her cousin just married a Catholic, a sign of growing peace in Ireland.

Peace Fought, Peace Lost

I met a man who came from away
With no friends, no money, no English
Everything against him

But he was proud
He had two hands, he wanted to work
Not accept help

This man went to Toronto and almost starved
Before he found somewhere to eat and sleep

This man has two degrees, he’s a priest, he risked his life defending human rights
He can’t go to law school because his war-torn country can’t send his degrees
How ludicrous
He could teach the truth that children should not be used as soldiers
That people who defend children should not get shot

Let’s be soldiers in the army of love

My grandfather’s village is just down the road
It’s blessed with the richest of olive groves
On Fridays when grandfather takes me on his knee
I feel the shade of a tree that I’ve never seen
 
I’m fighting for freedom, peace and security
I’ll never forget what they’ve stolen from me
Wrongs like these must be avenged  
I will not rest until they taste just revenge
 
We’re fighting for freedom in a just war

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