A Mantle of Grace

Calm is the mantle of grace I strive ever to wear.
Gone be the hatred that covers our world with despair.
The seasons of war and peace shall ever come and go,
Yet peace remains the ultimate gift life may bestow.

Though hard won at times, harmony is well worth the fight.
Angst and woe of war is a scourge, humanity’s blight.
Malevolent intentions shred the fabric of life,

Leaving goodwill thread bare by years of unending strife.
I pray diligently to don such a sacred cape,
Yet my bared soul is grieved with battle’s pernicious rape.
The outcome sought for may never be that I desire,
As men seem driven to worship a blood-soaked empire.

Heads of state bicker, promises, accords are broken,
And forgotten are statements of agreement spoken.
A mantle of calm has been cast aside in disgrace,
Rather than cherished by leaders who are void of grace.
Sheila Bowyer Kline
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” -Plato