It’s like this:

We live on the Earth,
Which was once a hot, broiling place.
But came the rain,
And it had room for life.
Life which, for a while, wasn’t doing too badly.

And then came war.
Whether primitive hand-to-hand combat,
Or the so-called ‘advanced’ bombs of today,
The intent, the bloodlust remains the same.
With primeval screams and wild grimaces,
We set out to destroy.
To seek violent ends mirroring our planet’s violent beginning.

But the history of the Earth disproves the possibility,
And as the rain came down in such an unlikely place,
Bringing peace to our hot fireball home,
So the rain will come down in the desert, in the jungles.
Monsters will become people again, uncoiling gnarled fingers
From their ugly guns, refraining from pressing that button
To bomb so many to oblivion.
They will breathe in the mist of the air,
And as their hot, broiling hearts cool,
There will be room again for life.

Entry for the Barbara Mandigo Kelly Peace Poetry Award.
30 June 2009, 22.45